i|  II     I    M 


I 


KATHLEEN  NORRIS 


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UNDERTOW 


11 


ornia 
lal 


UNDERTOW 


By  the  Author  of 

The  Heart  of  Rachael 

The  Story  of  Julia  Page 

Mother 

Poor,  Dear  Margaret  Kirby 

Saturday's  Child 

The  Treasure 

The  Rich  Mrs.  Burgoyne 


i^_ 


NAXC^^ 


UNDERTOW 


BY 

KATHLEEN  NORRIS 

Author  of 

"The  Heart  of  Rachael,"  "The  Story 

of  Julia  Page,"  "Mother," 

"Saturday's  Child,"  Etc. 


Garden  City  New  York 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

1917 


Copyright,  1917,  by 
Kathleen  Norris 

Jll  rights  reserved,  including  thai  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 


Copyright,  igij,  by  the  Curtis  Publishing  Company, 
under  the  title  "  Holly  Court " 


mi; 


To 
MARGARET  THOMAS 

We  need  no  gifts,  whose  thoughts  and  prayers 

maintain 
Through  all  the  years  a  strong  and  stronger  chain, 
Yet  take  the  little  gift,  the  visible  sign 
Of  the  deep  love  between  your  heart  and  mine. 


UNDERTOW 


UNDERTOW 

Chapter  One 

The  marriage  of  Albert  Bradley  and  Anne 
Polk  Barrett  was  as  close  as  anything  comes, 
in  these  prosaic  days,  to  a  high  adventure. 
Nancy's  Uncle  Thomas,  a  quiet,  gentle  old 
Southerner  who  wore  tan  linen  suits  when  he 
came  to  New  York,  which  was  not  often,  and 
Bert's  mother,  a  tiny  Boston  woman  who  had 
lived  in  a  diminutive  Brookline  apartment  since 
her  three  sons  had  struck  out  into  the  world 
for  themselves,  respectively  assured  the  young 
persons  that  they  were  taking  a  grave  chance 
However  different  their  viewpoint  of  hfe,  old 
Mrs.  Bradley  and  old  Mr.  Polk  could  agree 
heartily  in  that. 

Of  course  there  was  much  to  commend  the 

3 


4  UNDERTOW 

union.  Nancy  was  beautiful,  she  came  of 
gentlefolk,  and  she  liked  to  assert  that  she  was 
practical,  she  "had  been  a  workin'  woman  for 
yeahs."  This  statement  had  reference  to  a 
comfortable  and  informal  position  she  held  with 
a  private  association  for  the  relief  of  the  poor. 
Nancy  was  paid  fifteen  dollars  a  week,  seven  of 
which  she  in  turn  paid  to  the  pretty  young 
widow,  an  old  family  friend  only  a  few  years 
older  than  herself,  with  whom  she  boarded. 
Mrs.  Terhune  was  rich,  in  a  modest  way,  and 
frequently  refused  the  money  entirely.  But  she 
took  it  often  enough  to  make  the  blooming 
Nancy  feel  quite  self-supporting,  and  as  Nancy 
duly  reported  at  the  sunshiny  office  of  the  South- 
ern Ladies'  Helping  Hand  every  morning,  or 
almost  every  morning,  the  girl  had  some  reason 
to  feel  that  she  had  solved  her  financial  and 
domestic  problem. 

Bert  was  handsome,   too,   and  his  mother 
knew  everybody  who  was  any  body  in  Boston. 


UNDERTOW  5 

If  Nancy's  grandfather  Polk  had  been  Chief 
Justice  of  the  Supreme  Court  of  Maryland,  why, 
Bert  was  the  seventh  of  his  name  in  direct 
descent,  and  it  was  in  Bert's  great-great- 
grandfather's home  that  several  prominent  citi- 
zens of  Boston  had  assumed  feathers  and  war- 
paint for  a  celebrated  tea-party  a  great  many 
years  ago. 

More  than  that,  Bert  was  at  a  sensible  age  for 
matrimony,  twenty-five,  and  Nancy,  like  all 
southern  girls,  had  ripened  early,  and  at  twenty- 
two  had  several  years  of  dancing  and  flirting 
behind  her.  There  was  nothing  impulsive 
about  the  affair.  The  two  had  trotted  about 
their  adopted  city  for  perhaps  two  years  before 
Bert  brought  Nancy  the  enormous  diamond  that 
his  mother  had  given  him  years  ago  for  just 
this  wonderful  time.  Circumstances  had  helped 
them  to  know  each  other  well.  Nancy  knew 
the  sort  of  play  that  made  Bert  stutter 
with  enthusiasm  as  they  walked  home,   and 


6  UNDERTOW 

Bert  knew  that  Nancy  made  adorable  little 
faces  when  she  tried  on  hats,  and  that  her 
salary  was  fifteen  dollars  a  week.  At  this 
time,  and  for  some  years  later,  Bert  was  only 
one  of  several  renting  agents  employed  by  the 
firm  of  Pearsall  and  Pearsall,  City  Real  Estate. 
He  moved  his  office  from  one  new  office-building 
downtown  to  another,  sometimes  warmed  by 
clanking  new  radiators,  sometimes  carrying  a 
gasoline  stove  with  him  into  the  region  of  new- 
plaster  and  paint.  His  name  was  not  important 
enough  to  be  included  in  the  list  of  tenants  in 
the  vestibule,  he  was  merely  "Renting  Office, 
Tenth  Floor."  And  Nancy  knew  that  when  he 
had  been  a  few  months  longer  with  Pearsall 
and  Pearsall,  they  would  pay  him  exactly 
thirteen  hundred  dollars  a  year. 

That  was  the  objection,  money.  Mother  and 
Uncle  Tom  thought  that  that  was  not  enough; 
Nancy  and  Bert  worked  it  all  out  on  paper,  and 
thought  it  more  than  sufficient.     They  always 


UNDERTOW  7 

had  a  splendid  balance,  on  paper.  Meanwhile, 
Mrs.  Terhime  went  on  refusing  Nancy's  board 
now  and  then,  and  slipping  bank-notes  into 
Nancy's  purse  now  and  then,  and  Bert  continued 
to  board  with  the  southern  gentlewomen  to 
whom  he  had  paid  ten  dollars  a  week  for  three 
years.  He  felt  like  a  son  in  the  Venables'  house, 
by  this  time. 

It  was  at  the  Venables'  boarding-house,  in- 
deed, that  he  first  had  met  the  dark-eyed  and 
vivacious  Nancy,  who  was  intimate  with  the 
faded  daughters  of  the  family,  Miss  Augusta 
and  Miss  Sally  Anne.  When  Nancy's  Uncle 
Thomas  came  to  the  city  for  one  of  his  infre- 
quent visits,  she  always  placed  him  in  Mrs. 
Venable's  care. 

Bert's  first  impression  of  her  was  of  a  super- 
naturally  clever  person,  hopelessly  surrounded 
by  "beaux."  She  had  so  many  admirers  that 
even  Miss  Augusta,  who  had  had  a  disappoint- 
ment,  warmed  into   half-forgotten   coquetries 


8  ^      UNDERTOW 

while  she  amused  Bert,  for  whom  Miss  Nancy 
had  no  time.  They  seemed  to  Bert,  whose 
youth  had  known  responsibihty  and  hardship, 
a  marvellously  happy  and  light-hearted  crowd. 
They  laughed  continuously,  and  they  extracted 
from  the  chameleon  city  pleasures  that  were 
wonderfully  innocent  and  fresh.  It  was  as  if 
these  young  exiles  had  brought  from  their 
southern  homes  something  of  leisure,  something 
of  spaciousness  and  pure  sweetness  that  the 
more  sophisticated  youth  of  the  city  lacked. 
Their  very  speech,  softly  slurred  and  lazy,  held  a 
charm  for  Bert,  used  to  his  mother's  and  his 
aunts'  crisp  consonants.  He  called  Nancy 
"my  little  southern  girl"  in  his  heart,  from  the 
hour  he  met  her,  and  long  afterward  he  told 
her  that  he  had  loved  her  all  that  time. 

He  could  not  free  the  cramped  muscles  of  his 
spirit  to  meet  her  quite  on  her  own  ground;  it 
was  his  fate  sometimes  to  reach  the  laugh  just 
as  all  the  others  grew  suddenly  serious,  and  as 


UNDERTOW  9 

often  he  took  their  airy  interest  heavily,  and 
chained  them  with  facts,  from  which  they  flut- 
tered Uke  a  flight  of  butterflies.  But  he  had  his 
own  claim,  and  it  warmed  the  very  fibres  of  his 
lonely  heart  when  he  saw  that  Nancy  was  be- 
ginning to  recognize  that  claim. 

When  they  all  went  out  to  the  theatre  and 
supper,  it  was  his  pocket-book  that  never  failed 
them.  And  what  a  night  that  was  when,  eagerly 
proffering  the  fresh  bills  to  Lee  Porter,  who 
was  giving  the  party,  he  looked  up  to  catch  a 
look  of  protest,  and  shame,  and  gratitude,  in 
Nancy's  lovely  eyes! 

"No,  now,  Lee,  you  shall  not  take  it!"  she 
laughed  richly.  Bert  thought  for  a  second  that 
this  was  more  than  mere  persiflage,  for  the  ex- 
pression on  the  girl's  face  was  new.  Later  he 
reminded  himself  that  they  all  used  curious 
forms  of  speech.  "I  just  was  too  tired  to  get 
up  this  morning,"  a  girl  who  had  actually 
gotten  up  would  say,  or  someone  would  com- 


lo  UNDERTOW 

ment  upon  a  late  train:  "The  old  train  actu- 
ally never  did  get  here! " 

After  a  while  he  took  Nancy  to  lunch  once  or 
twice,  and  one  day  took  her  to  the  Plaza,  where 
his  mother  happened  to  be  staying  with  Cousin 
Mary  Winthrop  and  Cousin  Anna  Baldwin,  and 
his  mother  said  that  Nancy  was  a  sweet,  lovely 
girl.  Bert  had  quite  a  thrill  when  he  saw  the 
familiar,  beautiful  face  turned  seriously  and  with 
pretty  concern  toward  his  mother,  and  he  hked 
Nancy's  composure  among  the  rather  formal 
older  women.  She  managed  her  tea  and  her 
gloves  and  her  attentions  prettily,  thought 
Bert.  When  he  took  her  home  at  six  o'clock 
he  was  conscious  that  he  had  passed  an  invisible 
barrier  in  their  relationship;  she  knew  his 
mother.     They  were  of  one  breed. 

But  that  night,  when  he  went  back  to  the 
hotel  to  dine,  his  mother  drew  him  aside. 

"Not  serious,  dear — between  you  and  Miss 
Barrett,  I  mean?  " 


UNDERTOW  II 

Bert  laughed  in  pleasant  confusion. 

"Well,  I — of  course  I  admire  her  awfully. 
Everyone  does.  But  I  don't  know  that  I'd 
have  a  chance  with  her."  Suddenly  and  un- 
bidden there  leaped  into  his  heart  the  glorious 
thought  of  possessing  Nancy.  Nancy — his 
wife,  making  a  home  and  a  life  for  unworthy 
him!  He  flushed  deeply.  His  mother  caught 
the  abashed  murmur,  "  ...  thirteen  hun- 
dred a  year!" 

"Exactly!"  she  said  incisively,  almost  tri- 
umphantly. But  her  eyes,  closely  watching 
his  expression,  were  anxious.  "I  don't  believe 
in  having  things  made  too  easy  for  young  per- 
sons," she  added,  smiling.  "But  that — that 
really  is  too  hard." 

"  Yep.     That's  too  hard,"  Bert  agreed. 

"It  isn't  fair  to  the  girl  to  ask  it,"  added  his 
mother  gently. 

"That's  true,"  Bert  said  a  little  heavily, 
after  a  pause.     "  It  isn't  fair — to  Nancy." 


12  UNDERTOW 

The  next  night  Nancy  wondered  why  his 
manner  was  so  changed,  and  why  he  spoke  so 
bitterly  of  his  work,  and  what  was  the  matter 
with  him  anyway.  She  reflected  that  perhaps 
he  was  sorry  his  mother's  visit  was  over.  For 
two  or  three  weeks  he  seemed  restless  and  dis- 
contented, and  equally  unwilling  to  be  included 
in  the  "  Dutch  treats,"  or  to  be  left  out  of  them. 
And  then  suddenly  the  bad  mood  passed,  and 
Bert  was  his  kind  and  appreciative  and  generous 
self  again.  Clark  Belknap,  also  of  Maryland, 
who  had  plenty  of  money  and  a  charming  per- 
sonality and  manner  as  well,  began  to  show  the 
famiUar  symptoms  toward  Nancy,  and  Bert 
told  himself  that  Clark  would  be  an  admirable 
match  for  her.  Also  his  Cousin  Mary  wrote  him 
that  his  second  cousin  Dorothy  Hayes  Hamilton 
was  going  to  be  in  New  York  for  a  few  weeks, 
and  asked  him  to  take  her  about  a  little,  and 
see  that  she  had  a  nice  time.  Cousin  Mar>^,  as 
was  usual,  enclosed  a  generous  check  to  insure 


UNDERTOW  13 

the  nice  time,  and  little  Dorothy  proved  to  be 
a  very  rose  of  a  girl,  just  as  unspoiled  as  if  her 
fortune  had  been  half  a  dollar  instead  of  half 
a  million  and  full  of  pride  in  her  big  cousin, 
whose  Harvard  record  she  e\ddently  knew  by 
heart. 

Bert  willingly  took  her  about,  and  they  be- 
came good  friends.  He  did  not  see  much  of 
Nancy  now,  and  one  of  the  times  he  did  see  her 
was  unfortunate.  He  and  Dorothy  had  been 
having  tea  at  a  roof-garden,  after  a  long  de- 
lightful day  in  Dorothy's  car,  and  now  he  was  to 
take  her  to  her  hotel.  Just  as  he  was  holding 
the  little  pongee  wrap,  and  Dorothy  was  laugh- 
ing up  at  him  from  under  the  roses  on  her  hat, 
he  saw  Nancy,  going  out  between  two  older 
women.  His  look  just  missed  hers;  he  knew 
she  had  seen  him;  had  perhaps  been  watching 
him,  but  he  could  not  catch  her  eye  again. 

It  was  a  hot  night,  and  Nancy  looked  a  little 
pale  and,  although  as  trim  and  neat  as  usual,  a 


14  UNDERTOW 

little  shabby.  Her  pretty  hands  in  old  gloves 
she  had  washed  herself,  her  pretty  eyes  pa- 
tiently fixed  upon  the  faces  of  the  women  who 
were  boring  her  in  her  youth  and  freshness  with 
the  business  of  sickness  and  poverty,  her  whole 
gentle,  rather  weary  aspect,  smote  Bert's  heart 
with  a  pain  that  was  half  a  fierce  joy.  Never 
had  he  loved  her  in  her  gaiety  and  her  indiffer- 
ence as  he  loved  her  now,  when  she  looked  so 
sweetly,  so  almost  sorrowfully. 

A  week  later  he  went  to  see  her. 

"Well,  Mister  Bert  Bradley,"  she  smiled  at 
him,  unfastening  the  string  from  the  great  box 
of  roses  that  had  simultaneously  arrived  from 
some  other  admirer,  "I  didn't  know  what  to 
make  of  you!  And  who  was  the  more-than- 
pretty  little  girl  that  you  were  squiring  on  the 
Waldorf  roof  last  week?  " 

"Just  my  cousin,  Dorothy  Hamilton.  She 
went  back  to  Boston  to-day.  She's  finished 
school,  and  had  a  year  abroad,  and  now  she  isn't 


UNDERTOW  15 

quite  sure  wliat  she  wants  to  do.  How's  Mr. 
Belknap?" 

She  narrowed  her  eyes  at  him  mischievously. 

"Don't  you  think  you're  smart!  These  are 
from  him.  He's  very  well.  He  took  me  to  the 
theatre  last  night,  and  we  had  a  wonderful 
time.  Come  with  me  into  the  kitchen,  while  I 
put  these  in  water." 

"Take  good  care  of  them!"  Bert  said  wither- 
ingly.  But  she  only  laughed  at  him  from  the 
sink.  He  followed  her  into  the  small,  hot,  neat 
kitchen,  with  the  clean  empty  pint  bottle  and 
the  quarter-pint  bottle  turned  upside  down  near 
the  bright  faucets,  and  the  enamel  handles  of 
the  gas  stove  all  turned  out  in  an  even  row. 
Bert  remembered  that  the  last  time  he  had  been 
here  was  a  cold  May  morning,  when  he  and 
Nancy  had  made  countless  hot  cakes.  He  had 
met  her  at  church,  and  walked  home  with  her, 
and  while  they  were  luxuriously  fmishing  the 
last  of  the  hot  cakes  the  others  had  burst  in, 


i6      ,  UNDERTOW 

with  the  usual  harum-scarum  plans  for  the  day. 
But  that  was  May,  and  now  it  was  July,  and 
somehow  the  bloom  seemed  to  be  gone  from 
their  relationship. 

They  talked  pleasantly,  and  after  awhile  Mrs. 
Terhune  came  in  and  talked,  too.  She  was  dis- 
tressed about  some  shares  she  held  in  a  traction 
company  and  Bert  was  able  to  be  of  real  service 
to  her,  taking  a  careful  memorandum,  and  prom- 
ising to  see  her  about  it  in  a  day.  "  For  I  expect 
we'll  see  you  round  here  in  a  day  or  two,"  she 
said  with  simple  archness.  She  was  well  used 
to  the  demands  of  Nancy's  beaux.  Nancy 
looked  particularly  innocent  and  expectant  at 
this,  "Perhaps  Mr.  Bradley  might  come  in  and 
cheer  you  up,  if  I  go  off  with  Mrs.  Featherstone 
for  the  week-end?"  she  suggested  pleasantly. 
Mrs.  Featherstone  had  been  Virginia  Belknap. 

Bert  presently  bade  her  a  cold  good-bye.  His 
reassurance  to  ]Mrs.  Terhune  was  made  the 
next  day  by  telephone,  and  life  became  dark 


UNDERTOW  17 

and  dull  to  him.  Certain  things  hurt  hini 
strangely — the  sight  of  places  where  she  had 
taken  off  the  shabby  gloves ;  and  had  seated  her- 
self happily  opposite  him  for  luncheon  or  tea; 
the  sound  of  music  she  had  hummed.  He 
wanted  to  see  her — not  feverishly,  nothing 
extreme,  except  that  he  wanted  it  every  second 
of  the  time.  A  mild  current  of  wanting  to  see 
Nancy  underran  all  his  days;  he  could  control  it, 
he  decided,  and  to  an  extent  he  did.  He  ate 
and  worked  and  even  slept  in  spite  of  it.  But 
it  was  always  there,  and  it  tired  him,  and  made 
him  feel  old  and  sad. 

And  then  they  met;  Bert  idling  through  the 
September  sweetness  and  softness  and  goldness 
of  the  park,  Nancy  briskly  taking  her  business- 
like way  from  West  Eightieth  to  East  Sevent} - 
second  Street.  What  Nancy  experienced  in  the 
next  hour  Bert  could  only  guess,  he  knew  that 
she  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  that  for  some  rea- 
son she  was  entirely  off  guard.     For  himself, 


i8  UNDERTOW 

he  was  like  a  thirsty  animal  that  reaches  trees, 
and  shade,  and  the  wide  dimpling  surface  of 
clear  waters.  He  had  so  often  imagined  meeting 
her,  and  had  so  longed  to  meet  her,  that  he  was 
actually  a  little  confused,  and  wanted  shakily 
to  laugh,  and  to  cling  to  her. 

He  walked  to  Seventy-second  Street,  with 
her  and  then  to  tea  at  a  tiny  place  in  Madi- 
son Avenue  called  the  Prince  Royal.  And  she 
settled  herself  opposite  him,  just  as  in  his 
dreams — only  so  much  more  sweetly — and  smiled 
at  him  from  her  dear  faithful  blue  eyes,  as  she 
laid  aside  her  gloves. 

She  was  wearing  a  large  diamond,  surrounded 
by  topazes.  Bert  knew  that  he  had  never  seen 
this  ring  before,  although  it  did  not  look  Uke  a 
new  one.  However,  the  age  of  the  ring  sig- 
nified nothing.  He  wondered  if  Clark  Bel- 
knap's mother  had  ever  worn  it,  and  if  Clark 
had  just  given  it  to  Nancy.     .     .     . 

She  was  full  of  heavenly  interest  and  friend- 


UNDERTOW  19 

iiness.  But  when  they  were  walking  home  she 
told  him  that  she  was  so  sorry — she  couldn't 
ask  him  to  dine,  because  she  was  going  out. 
She  asked  him  for  the  next  day,  but  his  board 
of  directors  was  having  a  monthly  meeting  that 
night,  and  he  had  to  be  there.  How  about 
Saturday? 

Saturday  she  was  going  out  of  town,  a  special 
meeting  of  the  Red  Cross.  They  hung  there. 
Nancy  was  perhaps  ashamed  to  go  on  through 
the  list  of  days,  Bert  would  not  ungenerously 
force  her.  He  left  her,  thrilled  and  yet  dissatis- 
fied. He  looked  back  almost  with  en\'y  to  his 
state  of  a  few  hours  earlier,  when  he  had  been 
hoping  that  he  might  meet  her. 


Chapter  Two 

The  week  dragged  b}'.  The  undercurrent 
of  longing  to  see  Nancy  flowed  on  and  on. 
Bert  wanted  nothing  else — just  Nanc}^  He 
had  been  spending  the  summer  with  a  friend, 
at  the  friend's  uptown  house,  but  now  he  thought 
he  would  go  out  to  the  Venables,  and  show  some 
interest  in  his  newly-papered  room  and  hear 
them  speak  of  her. 

He  rang  their  bell  with  a  thumping  heart. 
It  was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  She 
might  even  be  here!  Or  they  might  tell  him 
she  was  engaged  to  Clark  Belknap  of  Maryland. 
.  .  .  Bert  felt  so  sick  at  the  thought  that  it 
seemed  a  fact.     He  wanted  to  run  away. 

Miss  Augusta,  red-eyed,  opened  the  door. 
Beyond  her  he  was  somehow  vaguely  aware  of 
darkness,  and  weeping,  and  the  subdued  rustling 

20 


UNDERTOW  21 

of  gowns.  Po'  Nancy  Barrett  was  here — he 
knew  that?  Well,  didn't  he  know  that  the 
dea'  old  Colonel  had  passed  away  suddenly — 
Miss  Augusta's  tears  flowed  afresh.  Nancy 
had  come  in  unexpectedly  to  lunch,  and  the 
telegram  from  her  aunt  had  come  while  she 
was  there.  "Tell  Nancy  Brother  Edward 
passed  on  at  five  o'clock.  Come  home  at 
once." 

Bert  listened  dazedly,  in  the  shabby  old  par- 
lour with  the  scrolled  flowery  carpet,  and  the 
statues,  and  the  square  piano.  He  comforted 
Miss  Augusta,  he  even  put  one  arm  about  her. 
Was  there  something  he  could  do?— he  asked 
the  forlorn,  empty  question  merely  as  a  matter 
of  course. 

"I  don't  suppose  yo'  could  send  some  tele- 
grams. .  .  ."  Miss  Augusta  said,  blowing 
her  nose  damply.  "  Po'  child,  she  hasn't  got  a 
brother,  nor  anyone  to  depend  on  now  in  the 
hour  of  her  bitteh  need ! ' ' 


22  UNDERTOW 

Bert's  heart  leaped. 

"Just  tell  me!"  he  begged.  "And  what 
about  trains,  and  arrangements?  Will  she  go 
down?  And  clothes? — ^would  she  need  some- 
thing  " 

This  last  item  had  been  attended.  Mama 
and  Sis'  Sally  Anne  had  gone  down  town,  po' 
child,  she  didn't  want  much.  And  yes,  she 
was  going  down,  to-morrow — that  night,  if 
it  could  be  managed. 

"But  Nancy  herself  had  better  see  yo',"  Miss 
Augusta  said  disappearing.  Bert  waited,  his 
heart  thundering.  Murmuring  and  tears  came 
from  some  remote  region.  Then  quietly  and 
slowly  Nancy,  in  new  black,  came  in.  And 
Bert  knew  that  to  the  end  of  the  world,  as  long 
as  he  should  breathe,  life  would  mean  Nancy's 
life  to  him;  and  the  world  was  only  Nancy. 

They  sat  down  on  the  slippery  horsehair,  and 
talked  softly  and  quickly.  Ticket — train — 
telegrams — the  little  money  that  was  necessary 


UNDERTOW  23 

— ^he  advised  her  about  them  all.  He  called 
her  "Nancy"  to-day,  for  the  first  time.  He  re- 
membered afterward  that  she  had  called  him 
nothing.  She  went  to  get  Mrs.  Venable,  after  a 
while,  and  later  Sis'  Sally  Anne  drew  him  aside 
and  told  him  to  make  Nancy  drink  her  good  hot 
tea.  She  drank  it,  at  his  command.  ClarkBelknap 
came  that  evening;  others  came — all  too  late. 
Before  the  first  of  them,  Bert  had  taken  her  to 
the  train,  had  made  her  as  comfortable  as  he 
could,  had  sat  beside  her,  with  her  soft  gloved 
hand  tight  in  his,  murmuring  to  her  that  she  had 
so  much  to  be  thankful  for — no  pain,  no  illness,  no 
real  age.  But  she  had  left  him,  she  said,  her 
lip  trembhng  and  her  eyes  brimming  again. 
He  reminded  her  of  her  pretty,  dependent  step- 
mother, of  the  two  little  half-brothers  who  were 
just  waiting  for  Nancy  to  come  and  straighten 
everything  out. 

"Yes — I've  got  to  keep  up  for  them!"  she 
said,     smihng    bravely.       And    in    a    tense 


24  UNDERTOW 

undertone  she  added,  ''You're  wonderful  to 
me!" 

"And  will  you  have  some  supper — just  to 
break  the  evening?  " 

"I  had  tea."  She  leaned  back,  and  shut  her 
eyes.  "I  couldn't — eat!"  she  whispered  piti- 
fully. His  response  was  to  put  his  clean,  folded 
handkerchief  into  her  hand,  and  at  that  she 
opened  the  wet  eyes,  and  smiled  at  him  shakily. 

"Just  some  soup — or  a  salad,"  he  urged. 
"  Will  you  promise  me,  Nancy?  " 

"I  promise  you  I'll  tr}^"  she  said  in  parting. 

W^alking  home  with  his  head  in  a  whirl,  Bert 
said  to  himself:  "This  is  the  second  of  October. 
I'll  give  her  six  months.  On  the  second  of 
April  I'll  ask  her." 

However,  he  asked  her  on  Christmas  night, 
after  the  Venables'  wonderful  Christmas  dinner, 
when  they  all  talked  of  the  Civil  War  as  if  it 
were  yesterday,  and  when  old  laces,  old  jet  and 
coral  jewelry,   and   frail  old  silk  gowns  were 


UNDERTOW  25 

much  in  evidence.  They  were  sitting  about  the 
coal  fire  in  the  back  drawing-room,  when  Nancy 
and  Bert  chanced  to  be  alone.  Mrs.  Venables 
had  gone  to  brew  some  punch,  with  Sis'  Sally 
Anne's  help.  The  other  young  men  of  the  party 
were  assisting  them,  Augusta  had  gone  to  the 
telephone. 

Bert  always  remembered  the  hour.  The 
room  was  warm,  fragrant  of  spicy  evergreen. 
There  was  a  Rogers  group  on  the  marble  man- 
tie,  and  two  Dresden  china  candlesticks  that 
reflected  themselves  in  the  watery  dimness  of 
the  mirror  above.  Nancy,  slender  and  ex- 
quisite, was  in  unrelieved,  lacy  black;  her  hair 
was  as  softly  black  as  her  gown.  Her  white 
hands  were  locked  in  her  lap.  Something  had 
reminded  her  of  old  Christmases,  and  she  had 
told  Bert  of  running  in  to  her  mother's  room, 
early  in  the  chilly  morning,  to  shout  "Christ- 
mas GiftI" 

Not  mo\dng  his  sympathetic  eyes  from  her 


26  UNDERTOW 

face,  he  slipped  to  one  knee  to  replace  a  fallen 
coal,  and  it  was  with  the  tongs  still  in  his  hand 
that  he  leaned  suddenly  against  the  worn  red 
velvet  arm  of  her  chair. 

"Nancy  dear — Nancy  dearest — will  you  let 
me  tell  them?"  he  said,  huskily. 

She  was  not  surprised,  of  course.  Clark 
Belknap  had  been  dismissed  weeks  ago,  and  her 
first  quiet  steps  back  into  the  noise  of  the  world 
had  been  made  with  her  hand  on  Bert's  strong 
arm.  Tea  and  talk  in  obscure  little  restaurants ; 
concerts  that  filled  her  aching  heart  with  com- 
fort as  they  filled  her  eyes  with  slow  tears;  lec- 
tures, sermons,  and  long  walks  in  the  park — he 
had  planned  them  all.  Bert  had  seen  her  first 
real  smile,  had  heard  the  first  faint  return  of 
her  old  happy  laugh.  He  loved  her  so  intensely 
that  his  own  terror  now  was  that  she  would  die. 
If  she  only  lived — if  she  only  didn't  leave  him 
alone  again — this  was  his  one  thought.  His 
mother  and  his  cousin  Dorothy  had  come  back 


UNDERTOW  27 

to  town  again,  and  his  own  pleasure  in  their 
visit  was  talking  of  Nancy;  how  wise,  how  sweet, 
how  infinitely  desirable  she  was.  Dorothy  had 
wanted  Cousin  Albert  to  come  to  her  for 
Thanksgiving.  No,  a  thousand  thanks — but 
Miss  Barrett  was  so  much  alone  now.  He  must 
be  near  her.  Dorothy  kept  her  thoughts  on 
the  subject  to  herself,  but  he  so  far  impressed 
his  mother  that  her  own  hopes  came  tc  be  his, 
she  dreaded  the  thought  of  what  might  happen 
to  her  boy  if  that  southern  girl  did  not  chance  to 
care  for  him. 

But  the  southern  girl  cared.  She  locked  the 
lace-clad  arms  about  his  neck,  on  this  memorable 
Cluistmas  night  and  laid  her  cheek  against  his. 

"Are  you  sure  you  want  me,  Bert?"  she 
whispered. 

They  had  not  much  altered  their  posi- 
tions when  Mrs.  Venables  came  back  half  an 
hour  later,  and  a  general  time  of  kissing, 
crying  and  laughing  began. 


Chapter  Three 

It  was  a  happy  time,  untroubled  by  the 
thought  of  money  that  was  soon  to  be  so  im- 
portant. Bert's  various  aunts  and  cousins 
sent  him  checks,  and  Nancy's  stepmother  sent 
her  all  her  own  mother's  linen  and  silver,  and 
odd  pieces  of  mahogany  on  which  the  freight 
charges  were  frightful,  and  laces  and  an  oil 
portrait  or  two.  The  trousseau  was  helped 
from  all  sides,  every  week  had  its  miracle;  and 
the  hats,  and  the  embroidered  whiteness,  and 
the  smart  street  suit  and  the  adorable  kitchen 
ginghams  accumulated  as  if  by  magic.  Bert's 
mother  sent  delightfully  monogrammed  bed-  and 
table-linen,  almost  weekly.  Nancy  said  it 
was  preposterous  for  poor  people  to  start  in 
with  such  priceless  possessions ! 

Among  the  happy  necessities  of  the  time 

28 


UNDERTOW  29 

was  the  finding  of  a  proper  apartment.  Nancy 
and  Bert  spent  delightful  Saturdays  and  Sun- 
days wandering  in  quest  of  it;  beginning  half- 
seriously  in  February,  when  it  seemed  far  too 
early  to  consider  this  detail,  and  continuing 
with  augmented  earnestness  through  the  three 
succeeding  months.  Eventually  they  got  both 
tired  and  discouraged,  and  felt  dashed  in  the 
very  opening  of  their  new  life,  but  finally  the 
place  was  found,  and  they  loved  it  instantly,  and 
leased  it  without  delay.  It  was  in  a  new  apart- 
ment house,  in  East  Eleventh  Street,  four  shiny 
and  tiny  rooms,  on  a  fourth  floor.  Everything 
was  almost  too  compact  and  convenient,  Nancy 
thought;  the  ice  box,  gas  stove,  dumb-waiter, 
hanging  light  over  the  dining  table,  clothes  line, 
and  garbage  chute,  were  already  in  place.  It 
left  an  ambitious  housekeeper  small  margin  for 
original  arrangement,  but  of  course  it  did  save 
money  and  time.  The  building  was  of  pretty 
cream  brick,  clean  and  fresh,  the  street  wide,  and 


30  UNDERTOW 

lined  with  dignified  old  brownstone  houses,  and 
the  location  perfect.  She  smothered  a  dream  of 
wide  old-fashioned  rooms,  quaintly  furnished  in 
chintzes  and  white  paint.  They  had  found  no 
such  enchanting  places,  except  at  exorbitant 
rents.  Seventy-five  dollars,  or  one  hundred 
dollars,  were  asked  for  the  simplest  of  them,  and 
the  plumbing  facilities,  and  often  the  janitor 
service,  were  of  the  poorest.  So  Nancy  aban- 
doned the  dream,  and  enthusiastically  accepted 
the  East  Eleventh  Street  substitute,  Bert  be- 
coming a  tenant  in  the  "George  Eliot,"  at  a 
rental  of  thirty-five  dollars  a  month.  Some  of 
the  old  Barrett  furniture  was  too  large  for  the 
place,  but  what  she  could  use  Nancy  arranged 
with  exquisite  taste :  fairly  dancing  with  pleasure 
over  the  sitting  room,  where  her  chair  and  Bert's 
were  in  place,  and  the  little  droplight  lighted 
on  the  Uttle  table.  In  this  room  they  were 
going  to  read  Dickens  out  loud,  on  winter 
nights. 


UNDERTOW  31 

They  were  married  on  a  hot  April  morning, 
a  morning  whose  every  second  seemed  to  Nancy 
flooded  with  strange  perfumes,  and  lighted  with 
unearthly  light.  The  sky  was  cloudless;  the 
park  bowered  in  fresh  green ;  the  streets,  under 
new  shadows,  clean-swept  and  warm.  Her 
gown  was  perfection,  her  new  wide  hat  the  most 
becoming  she  had  ever  worn;  the  girls,  in  their 
new  gowns  and  hats,  seemed  so  near  and  dear  to 
her  to-day.  She  was  hardly  conscious  of  Bert, 
but  she  remembered  liking  his  big  brother,  who 
kissed  her  in  so  brotherly  a  fashion.  Winter 
was  over,  the  snow  was  gone  at  last,  the  trying 
and  depressing  rains  and  the  cold  were  gone,  too, 
and  she  and  Bert  were  man  and  wife,  and  off  to 
Boston  for  their  honeymoon. 


Chapter  Four 

They  had  been  married  eleven  days,  and  were 
loitering  over  a  Sunday  luncheon  in  their  tiny 
home,  when  they  first  seriously  discussed  fi- 
nances; not  theoretical  finances,  but  finances  as 
bounded  on  one  side  by  Bert's  worn,  brown 
leather  pocket-book,  and  on  the  other  by  his 
bank-book,  with  its  confusing  entries  in  black 
and  red  ink. 

Here  on  the  table  were  seventeen  dollars 
and  eighty  cents.  Nancy  had  flattened  the 
bills,  and  arranged  the  silver  in  piles,  as  they 
talked.  This  was  Sunday;  Bert  would  be  paid 
on  Saturday  next.  Could  Nancy  manage  on 
that? 

Nancy  felt  a  vague  alarm.  But  she  had  been 
a  wage  earner  herself.  She  rose  to  the  situation 
at  once. 


UNDERTOW  33 

"Manage  what,  Bert?  If  you  mean  just 
meals,  of  course  I  can!  But  I  won't  have  this 
much  evetyweek  for  meals     .     .     .     ?" 

Bert  took  out  a  fountain  pen,  and  reached  for 
a  blank  envelope. 

"Do  you  mind  working  it  out? — I  think  it's 
such  fun!" 

"I  love  it!"  Nancy  brought  her  brightest 
face  to  the  problem.  "Now  let's  see — what 
have  we?     Exactly  one  hundred  a  month." 

"Thirteen  hundred  a  year,"  he  corrected. 

"Yes,  but  let's  not  count  that  extra  hundred, 
Bee!"  Nancy,  like  all  women,  had  given  her 
new  husband  a  new  name.  "Let's  save  that 
and  have  it  to  blow  in,  all  in  a  heap,  for  some- 
thing special?  " 

"All  right."  Bert  digressed  long  enough  to 
catch  the  white  hand  and  kiss  it,  and  say: 
"Isn't  it  wonderful — our  sitting  here  planning 
things  together?  Aren't  we  going  to  have  fun  ! ' ' 
Rent,  thirty-five,"  Nancy  began,  after  an 


it 


34  UNDERTOW 

interlude.  Bert,  who  had  secured  a  large  sheet 
of  clean  paper,  made  a  neat  entry,  "  Rent,  $35." 

"You  make  such  nice,  firm  figures,  mine  are 
always  wavy!"  observed  Nancy  irrelevantly,  at 
this.     This  led  nowhere. 

"Now  one  quarter  of  that  rent  ought  to 
come  out  every  week,"  Bert  submitted  pres- 
ently. "Eight  dollars  and  a  half  must  be 
put  aside  every  week." 

"Out  of  this,  too?"  Nancy  asked,  touching 
the  money  on  the  table. 

"Well,  that's  all  that's  left  of  half  my  salary, 
drawn  in  advance,"  Bert  said,  pondering.  "  Yes, 
you  see — wc  pay  a  month  in  advance  on  thefirst ! " 

"And  what  have  we  besides  this.  Bee?  Your 
Aunt  Mary's  check,  and — and  what  else?" 

"Aunt  Mary's  hundred,  which  will  certainly 
take  care  of  the  freight  bills,"  Bert  calculated, 
"and  that's  all,  except  this." 

"But,  Bert — but,  Bert — all  that  money  we 
had  in  Boston?" 


UNDERTOW  35 

Bert  pointed  to  the  table. 

"You  behold  the  remainder." 

"Weren't  we  the  extravagant  wretches!" 
mused  Nancy.  "  Taxis — tea-parties — breakfast 
upstairs— silly  pink  silk  stockings  for  Nancy,  a 
silly  pongee  vest  for  Bert — ■ — " 

"But  oh,  what  a  grand  time!"  her  husband 
finished  unrepentantly. 

"Wasn't  it!"  Nancy  agreed  dreamily.  But 
immediately  she  was  businesslike  again.  "  How- 
ever, the  lean  years  have  set  in,"  she  announced. 
"I'll  have  to  count  on  a  dollar  a  week  laundry — 
laundry  and  rent  nine  dollars  and  a  half; 
piano  and  telephone  at  the  rate  of  three  dollars 
a  month — that's  a  dollar  and  a  half  more;  milk, 
a  quart  of  milk  and  half  a  pint  of  cream  a  day, 
a  dollar  and  seventy-five  cents  more;  what  does 
that  leave,  Bert?" 

"It  leaves  twelve  dollars  and  twenty-five 
cents,"  said  Bert. 

"But  what  about  your  lunches,  dearest?  " 


36  UNDERTOW 

"Gosh!  I  forgot  them,"  Bert  stated  frankly. 
"I'll  keep  'em  under  fifteen  cents  a  day,"  he 
added,  "call  it  a  dollar  a  week!" 

"You  can't!"  protested  Nancy,  with  a  look  of 
despair. 

"I  can  if  I've  got  to.  Besides,  we'll  be  off 
places,  Sundays,  and  I'll  come  home  for  lunch 
Saturday,  and  you'll  feed  me  up." 

"But,  Bert,"  she  began  again  presently,  "I'll 
have  to  get  ice,  and  car  fares,  and  drugs,  and 
soap,  and  thread,  and  butter,  and  bread,  and 
meat,  and  salad-oil,  and  everything  else  in  the 
world  out  of  that  eleven-fifty ! "  Bert  was  frown- 
ing hard. 

"You  can't  have  the  whole  eleven-fifty,"  he 
told  her  reluctantly,  "I  can  walk  one  way,  to 
Forty-Eighth  Street,  but  I  can't  walk  both. 
I'll  have  to  have  some  car  fare.  And  my  office 
suit  has  got  to  be  pressed  about  once  every 
two  weeks " 


ii 


And  newspapers!"  added  Nancy,  dolefully. 


UNDERTOW  37 

"Seven  cents  more!"  And  they  both  burst 
into  laughter.  "But,  Bee,"  she  said  presently, 
ruffling  his  hair,  as  she  sat  on  the  arm  of  his 
chair,  "really  I  do  not  know  what  we  will  do 
in  case  of  dentist's  bills,  or  illness,  or  when  our 
clothes  wear  out.  What  do  people  do?  Is 
thirty-five  too  much  rent,  or  what?  " 

"I'm  darned  if  I  know  what  they  do!"  Bert 
mused. 


Chapter  Five 

They  both  were  destined  to  learn  how  it  was 
managed,  and  being  young  and  healthy  and  in 
love,  they  learned  easily,  and  with  much  laughter 
and  delight.  Bert's  share  was  perhaps  the 
easier,  for  although  he  manfully  walked  to  his 
office,  polished  his  own  shoes,  and  ate  a  tiresome 
and  unsatisfying  lunch  five  days  a  week,  he  had 
his  reward  on  the  sixth  and  seventh  days,  when 
Nancy  petted  and  praised  him. 

Her  part  was  harder.     She  never  knew  what  it 

was  to  be  free  from  financial  concern.     She 

fretted  and  contrived  until  the  misspending  of 

five  cents  seemed  a  genuine  calamity  to  her. 

She  walked  to  cheap  markets,  and  endured  the 

casual  scorn  of  cheap  clerks.     She  ironed  Bert's 

ties  and  pressed  his  trousers,  saving  car  fares 

by  walking,  saving  hospitahty  by  letting  her 

38 


UNDERTOW  39 

old  friends  see  how  busy  and  absorbed  she 
was,  saving  food  by  her  native  skill  and  inge- 
nuity. 

But  they  lived  royally,  every  meal  was  a 
triumph,  every  hour  strangely  bright.  Of 
cooking  meat,  especially  the  more  choice  cuts, 
Nancy  did  Httle  this  year,  but  there  was  no 
appetizing  combination  of  vegetables,  soups, 
salads,  hot  breads,  and  iced  drinks  that  she  did 
not  try.  Bert  said,  and  he  meant  it,  that  he 
had  never  lived  so  well  in  his  life,  and  certainly 
the  walls  of  the  Httle  apartment  in  the  "  George 
Eliot"  were  packed  with  joy.  When  their 
microscopic  accounts  balanced  at  the  end  of  the 
week,  they  celebrated  with  a  table-d'hote  dinner 
down  town — dinners  from  which  they  walked 
home  gloriously  happy,  Nancy  wondering  over 
and  over  again  how  the  restaurateurs  could 
manage  it,  Bert,  over  his  cigar,  estimating  care- 
fully: "Well,  Sweet,  there  wasn't  much  cost  to 
that  soup,  delicious  as  it  was,  and  I  suppose 


40  UNDERTOW 

they  buy  that  sole  down  at  the  docks,  in  the 
early  morning.     .     .     ." 

When  Nancy  had  learned  that  she  could 
live  without  a  telephone,  and  had  cut  down  the 
milk  bill,  and  limited  Bert  to  one  butter  ball 
per  meal,  she  found  she  could  manage  easily. 
In  August  they  gave  two  or  three  dinners,  and 
Nancy  displayed  her  pretty  table  furnishings 
to  "the  girls,"  and  gave  them  the  secret  of  her 
iced  tea.  She  told  her  husband  that  they  got 
along  because  he  was  "so  wonderful";  she  felt 
that  no  financial  tangle  could  resist  Bert's 
neatly  pencilled  little  calculations,  but  Bert 
praised  only  her — what  credit  to  him  that  he 
did  not  complain,  when  he  was  the  most  fortu- 
nate man  in  the  world? 

They  came  to  be  proud  of  their  achievement. 
Nancy  had  Buckley  Pearsall,  Bert's  chief,  and 
his  wife,  to  dinner,  and  kindly  Mrs.  Pearsall 
could  not  enough  praise  the  bride  and  her  man- 
agement.    Later  the  Pcarsalls  asked  the  young 


UNDERTOW  41 

Bradleys  down  to  their  Staten  Island  home  for 
a  week-end.  "  And  think  of  the  pure  gain  of  not 
buying  a  thing  for  three  days!"  exulted  Nancy, 
thereby  convulsing  her  lord.  She  brought  back 
late  corn,  two  jars  of  Mrs.  Pearsall's  preserved 
peaches,  a  great  box  of  grapes  to  be  made  into 
jelly,  and  a  basket  of  tomatoes.  Bert  said  that 
she  was  a  grafter,  but  he  knew  as  well  as  she 
that  Nancy's  pleasure  in  taking  the  gifts  had 
given  Mrs.  Pearsall  a  genuine  joy. 

With  none  of  the  emergencies  they  had 
dreaded,  and  with  many  and  unexpected  pleas- 
ures, the  first  winter  went  by.  Sometimes  Bert 
got  a  theatre  pass,  sometimes  old  friends  or 
kinspeople  came  to  town,  and  Bert  and  Nancy 
went  to  one  of  the  big  hotels  to  dinner,  and 
stared  radiantly  about  at  the  bright  lights,  and 
listened  to  music  again,  and  were  whirled  home 
in  a  taxicab. 

"That  party  cost  your  Cousin  Edith  about 
twenty-five    dollars,"    Nancy,    rolling    up    her 


42  UNDERTOW 

hair-net  thoughtfully,  would  say  late  at  night, 
with  a  suppressed  yawn.  "The  dinner  check 
was  fourteen,  and  the  tickets  eight — it  cost  her 
more  than  twenty-five  dollars!  Doesn't  that 
seem  wicked,  Bert?  And  all  that  delicious 
chicken  that  we  hardly  touched — dear  me,  what 
fun  I  could  have  with  twenty-five  dollars! 
There  are  so  many  things  I'd  like  to  buy  that  I 
never  do;  just  silly  things,  you  know — nice 
soaps  and  powders,  and  fancy  cheeses  and  an 
alligator  pear,  and  the  kind  of  toilet  water  you 
love  so — don't  you  remember  you  bought  it  in 
Boston  when  we  honeymooned?  " 

Perhaps  a  shadow  would  touch  Bert's  watch- 
ing face,  and  he  would  come  to  put  an  arm  about 
her  and  her  loosened  cloud  of  hair. 

"Poor  old  girl,  it  isn't  much  fun  for  you! 
Do  you  get  tired  of  it,  Nancy?" 

"Bert,"  she  said,  one  night  in  a  mood  of 
gravity  and  confidence  that  he  loved,  and  had 
learned  to  watch  for,  "I  never  get  tired.    And 


UNDERTOW  43 

sometimes  I  feel  sure  that  the  most  wonderful 
happiness  that  ever  is  felt  in  this  world  comes  to 
two  people  who  love  each  other,  and  who  have 
to  make  sacrifices  for  each  other!  I  mean  that. 
I  mean  that  I  don't  think  riches,  or  travel,  or 
great  gifts  and  achievements  bring  a  greater 
happiness  than  ours.  I  think  a  king,  dying,'* 
smiled  Nancy,  trying  not  to  be  too  serious, 
"might  wish  that,  for  a  while  at  least,  he  had 
been  able  to  wear  shabby  shoes  for  the  woman 
he  loved,  and  had  had  years  of  poking  about  a 
great  city  with  her,  and  talking  and  laughing 
and  experimenting  and  working  over  their 
problem  together!" 

Bert  kissed  the  thoughtful  eyes,  but  did  not 
speak. 

"But  just  the  same,"  Nancy  presently  went 
on,  "sometimes  I  do  get — just  a  little  fright- 
ened. I  feel  as  if  perhaps  we  had  been  a  little 
too  brave.  When  your  cousins,  and  mine,  ask 
us  how  we  do  it,  and  make  so  much  of  it,  it 


44  UNDERTOW 

makes  me  feel  a  little  uneasy.  Suppose  we 
really  aren't  able  to  swing  it     .     .     .     ?" 

Bert  knew  how  to  meet  this  mood,  and  he 
never  failed  her.  He  put  his  arm  about  her,  to- 
night, and  gave  her  his  sunniest  smile. 

"We  could  pay  less  rent,  dear." 

This  fired  Nancy.  Of  course  they  could. 
She  had  seen  really  possible  places,  in  inaccessi- 
ble neighbourhoods,  which  rented  far  more  rea- 
sonably. She  had  seen  quite  sunny  and  clean 
flats  for  as  little  as  fourteen  and  sixteen  dollars  a 
month.  Her  housekeeping  abilities  awakened 
to  the  demand.  What  did  she  and  Bert  care 
about  neighbourhoods  and  the  casual  dictates  of 
fashion?  They  were  a  world  in  themselves, 
and  they  needed  no  other  company. 

"Everyone  said  that  we'd  never  get  this  far," 
Bert  reminded  her  hearteningly.  She  was  im- 
mediately reassured,  and  fell  to  enthusiastic 
planning  for  Christmas. 


Chapter  Six 

It  was  their  first  Christmas,  and  they  spent 
it  alone  together.  Bert  and  Nancy  knew 
that  they  would  not  spend  another  Christ- 
mas alone,  and  the  shadowy  hope  for  April 
lent  a  new  tone  even  to  their  gayety,  and  deep- 
ened the  exquisite  happiness  of  the  dark,  snow- 
bound day.  The  tiny  house  was  full  of  laughter, 
for  Bert  had  given  his  wife  all  the  little  things 
she  had  from  time  to  time  whimsically  desired. 
The  fancy  cheeses,  and  the  perfumes  and  soaps, 
made  her  laugh  and  laugh  as  she  unwrapped 
them.  There  were  fuzzy  wash-cloths — a  par- 
ticular fancy  of  hers— and  new  library  paste 
and  new  hair-pins,  and  a  can-opener  that  made 
her  exclaim:  "Bert,  that  was  cute  of  you!"  and 
even  an  alligator  pear.  A  bewildered  look  came 
into  Nancy's  eyes  as  she  went  on  investigating 

45 


46  UNDERTOW 

her  bulging  stocking — gloves,  and  silk  hosiery, 
and  new  Uttle  enamelled  pins  for  her  collars, 
and  the  piano  score  of  the  opera  she  so  loved — 
where  had  the  money  come  from? 

"My  firm  gave  us  each  ten,"  Bert  explained, 
grinning. 

"And  you  spent  it  all  on  me!"  Nancy  said, 
stricken.  "You  poked  about  and  got  me  every 
blessed  thing  I  ever  wanted  in  this  world — you 
darUng!" 

"Why  not?"  he  asked.  "You're  the  only 
thing  I  have,  Nance!  And  such  little  things, 
dear." 

"It  isn't  the  things — it's  your  thinking  of 
them,"  Nancy  said.  "And  eating  wretched 
lunches  while  you  planned  them!  You  make 
me  cry — and  meanwhile,  my  beloved  little 
chicken  will  roast  himself  dry!" 

She  rushed  into  her  kitchen.  Bert  rushed 
after  her;  his  days  at  home  were  a  succession 
of  interruptions  for  Nancy,  no  topic  wa^  too  in- 


UNDERTOW  47 

significant  for  their  earnest  discussion,  and  no 
pleasure  too  small  to  share.  To-day  the  chief 
object  of  their  interest  was  his  mother's  Christ- 
mas present  to  him,  a  check  for  fifty  dollars, 
"  for  my  boy's  winter  coat." 

They  looked  at  the  slip  of  paper  at  regular  in- 
tervals. To  Bert  it  brought  a  pleasant  thought 
of  the  thin,  veiny  hand  that  had  penned  it,  the 
httle  silk-clad  form  and  trimly  netted  gray  hair. 
He  remembered  his  mother's  tiny  sitting  room, 
full  of  begonias  and  winter  sunshine  and  photo- 
graphs  of  the  family,  with  a  feeling  that  while 
mother  could  never  again  know  rapturous  hap- 
piness like  his  own,  yet  it  was  good  to  think  of 
her  as  content  and  comfortable,  with  her  tissue- 
wrapped  presents  from  the  three  daughters- 
in-law  lying  on  her  table. 

But  to  Nancy  the  check  meant  the  future 
only:  it  meant  her  handsome  Bert  dressed  at 
last  in  suitable  fashion,  in  a  "big,  fuzzy,  hairy 
coat."     She  pointed  out  various  men's  coats 


48  UNDERTOW 

in  the  windows  they  passed  that  afternoon,  and 
on  the  other  young  men  who  were  walking  with 
wives  and  babies. 

But  Bert  had  his  own  ideas.  When  Nancy 
met  him  down  town  a  day  or  two  later,  to  go 
pick  the  coat,  she  found  him  quite  unmanage- 
able. He  said  that  there  was  no  hurry  about 
the  coat — they  were  right  here  in  the  house- 
keeping things,  why  not  look  at  fireless  cookers? 
In  the  end  they  bought  an  ice-cream  freezer, 
and  a  fireless  cooker,  and  two  pairs  of  arctic 
overshoes,  and  an  enormous  oval-shaped  basket 
upon  which  the  blushing  Nancy  dropped  a  sur- 
reptitious kiss  when  the  saleswoman  was  not 
looking,  and  a  warm  blue  sweater  for  Nancy, 
and,  quite  incidentally,  an  eighteen-dollar  over- 
coat for  Bert. 

Nancy's  lip  trembled  over  this  last  purchase. 
They  v/ere  nice  overcoats,  remarkable  for  the 
price,  indeed — "marked  down  from  twenty- 
five."     But — but  she  had  wanted  him  to  spend 


UNDERTOW  49 

every  cent  of  the  fifty  dollars  for  a  stunning 
coat!  Bert  laughed  at  her  April  face.  He  took 
her  triumphantly  to  the  fifty-cent  luncheon 
and  they  talked  over  it  for  a  blissful  hour. 
And  when  she  left  him  at  the  ofiice  door,  Nancy 
consoled  herself  by  drifting  into  one  of  the 
near-by  second-hand  bookshops,  and  buying 
him  a  tiny  Keats,  "Pepy's  Diary"  somewhat 
shabby  as  to  cover,  and  George's  "Progress  and 
Poverty,"  at  ten  cents  apiece.  These  books 
were  piled  at  Bert's  place  that  night,  and  gave 
him  almost  as  much  pleasure  as  the  overcoat 
did. 

And  even  Nancy  had  to  confess  that  the  dis- 
puted garment  looked  warm  and  thick,  when 
it  came  home  in  its  green  box,  and  that  it  was 
"fun"  to  open  the  other  packages,  and  find  the 
sweater,  looking  so  wooly  and  comfortable, 
and  the  big  basket  destined  for  so  precious  a 
freight!  She  and  Bert  laughed  and  chattered 
over  the  thick  papers  and  strings  that  bound 


50  UNDERTOW 

the  freezer  and  the  cooker,  and  made  chocolate 
ice-cream  for  dinner  on  Sunday,  and  never  ate 
their  breakfast  oatmeal  without  a  rapturous 
appreciation  of  the  cooker. 


Chapter  Seven 

She  was  still  the  centre  of  his  universe  and 
her  own  when  she  walked  with  her  hand  on  his 
arm,  to  the  little  hospital  around  the  corner,  on 
a  sweet  April  morning.  The  slow  coming  of 
spring  had  brought  her  a  new  tenderness  and  a 
new  dependence,  and  instinctively  she  felt  that, 
when  she  came  home  again,  she  would  be  a  new 
Nancy.  The  wistfulness  that  marks  any  con- 
scious human  change  had  been  hers  for  many 
days  now;  she  was  not  distrustful,  she  was  not 
unhappy,  but  she  was  sobered  and  thoughtful. 

"We  have  been  happy,  haven't  we,  Bert?" 
she  said,  more  than  once. 

"We  always  will  be,  my  darhng!  You  know 
that." 

But  she  would  only  smile  at  him  wisely,  for 

reply.     She  was  still  happy,  happier  perhaps 

51 


52  UNDERTOW 

than  ever.  But  she  knew  that  she  was  no 
longer  the  mistress  of  her  own  happiness — it  lay 
in  other  hands  now. 

So  the  universe  was  turned  upside  down  for 
Nancy,  and  she  lost,  once  and  for  all  her  posi- 
tion as  its  centre.  The  world,  instead  of  a  safe 
and  cheerful  place,  became  full  of  possible  dan- 
gers for  the  baby,  Albert  the  eighth.  Nancy, 
instead  of  a  self-reliant,  optimistic  woman,  was 
only  a  weary,  feeble,  ignorant  person  who 
doubted  her  own  power  to  protect  this  priceless 
treasure. 

He  was  a  splendid  baby — that  was  part  of 
the  trouble.  He  was  too  splendid,  he  had  never 
been  equalled,  and  could  never  be  replaced,  and 
she  would  go  stark,  staring  mad  if  anything 
happened  to  him!  Nancy  almost  went  mad, 
as  it  was.  If  the  Cullinan  Diamond  had  been 
placed  in  Nancy's  keeping,  rather  than  worry 
about  it  as  she  worried  about  Junior,  she  would 
have  flung  it  gaily  into  the  East  River.     But  she 


UNDERTOW  53 

could  not  dispose  of  the  baby;  her  greatest 
horror  was  the  thought  of  ever  separating  from 
him,  the  fear  that  some  day  Bert  might  want  to 
send  him,  the  darhng,  innocent  thing,  at  four- 
teen, to  boarding-school,  or  that  there  might 
be  a  war,  and  Junior  might  enlist ! 

She  showed  him  to  visiting  friends  in  silence. 
When  Nancy  had  led  them  in  to  the  bedroom, 
and  raised  a  shade  so  that  the  tempered  sun 
light  revealed  the  fuzzy  head  and  shut  eyes 
and  rotund  linen-swathed  form  of  Junior,  she 
felt  that  words  were  unnecessary.  She  never 
really  saw  the  baby's  face,  she  saw  something 
idealized,  haloed,  angelic.  In  later  year  she 
used  to  say  that  none  of  the  hundreds  of  snap- 
shots Bert  took  of  him  really  did  the  child 
justice.  Junior  had  been  the  most  exquisitely 
beautiful  baby  that  any  one  ever  saw,  everyone 
said  so. 

When  Bert  got  home  at  night,  she  usually 
had  a  request  to  make  of  him.     Would  he  just 


54  UNDERTOW 

look  at  Junior?  No,  he  was  all  right,  only  he 
had  hardly  wanted  his  three  o'clock  nursing, 
and  he  was  sleeping  so  hard 

And  at  this  point,  if  she  was  tired — and  she 
was  always  tired! — Nancy  would  break  into 
tears.  "Bert — hadn't  we  better  ask  Colver  to 
come  and  see  him?"  she  would  stammer,  eag- 
erly. 

Ten  minutes  later  she  would  be  laughing, 
as  she  served  Bert  his  dinner.  Of  course  he 
was  all  right,  only,  being  alone  with  him  all 
day,  she  got  to  worrying.  And  she  was 
tired. 

Poor  Nancy,  she  was  not  to  know  rest  or 
leisure  for  many  years  to  come.  She  was 
clever,  and  as  resolutely  as  she  had  solved  their 
first,  simple  problem,  she  set  about  solving  this 
new  one.  They  had  forty  dollars  a  week  with 
which  to  manage  now,  but  the  extra  money 
seemed  only  a  special  dispensation  to  provide 
for  the  growing  demands  of  Junior. 


UNDERTOW  55 

Junior  needed  a  coach,  a  crib,  new  shirts — 
"he  is  getting  immense,  the  darling!"  was 
Nancy's  one  rapturous  comment,  when  four 
of  these  were  bought  at  sixty  cents  each.  In 
November  he  needed  two  quarts  of  milk  daily, 
and  what  his  mother  called  "an  ouncer"  to 
take  the  top-milk  safely  from  the  bottle,  and  a 
small  ice  box  for  the  carefully  prepared  bottles, 
and  the  bottles  themselves.  He  always  needed 
powder  and  safety-pins  and  new  socks,  and 
presently  he  had  to  have  a  coloured  woman  to  do 
his  washing,  for  Nancy  was  growing  stronger 
and  more  interested  in  life  in  general,  and  came 
to  the  conclusion  that  he  might  safely  be  left 
for  a  few  moments  with  Esmeralda,  now  and 
then. 

He  paid  for  these  favours  in  his  own  way,  and 
neither  Bert  nor  Nancy  ever  felt  that  it  was 
inadequate.  When  his  sober  fat  face  wrinkled 
into  a  smile  of  welcome  to  his  father,  Bert  was 
moved  almost   to   tears.     When  she  wheeled 


56  UNDERTOW 

him  through  the  streets,  royally  benign  after  a 
full  bottle,  rosy-cheeked  in  his  wooly  white  cap, 
Nancy  felt  almost  too  rich.  Junior  filled  all 
the  gaps  in  her  life,  it  mattered  not  what  she 
lacked  while  she  had  Junior. 

The  forty  dollar  income  melted  as  quickly 
as  the  twenty-five  dollar  one,  and  far  more 
mysteriously.  Nancy  would  have  felt  once 
that  forty  dollars  every  week  was  riches,  but 
between  Junior's  demands,  and  the  little  leak- 
age of  Esmeralda's  wages,  and  her  hearty  lunch 
twice  a  week,  and  the  milk,  and  the  necessarily 
less-careful  marketing,  they  seemed  to  be  just 
where  they  were  before. 

"There  must  be  some  way  of  living  that  we 
can  afford!"  mused  Nancy,  one  March  morning 
at  the  breakfast  table,  when  the  world  looked 
particularly  bright  to  the  young  Bradleys. 
Junior,  curly-headed,  white-clad,  and  excited 
over  a  hard  crust  of  toast,  sat  between  his  par- 
ents, who  interrupted  their  meal  to  kiss  his  fat 


UNDERTOW  57 

fists,  the  dewy  back  of  his  neck  under  the  silky 
curls,  and  even  the  bare  toes  that  occasionally 
appeared  on  the  board. 

This  was  Sunday,  and  for  months  it  had  been 
the  custom  to  weigh  Junior  on  Sunday,  a  process 
that  either  put  Nancy  and  Bert  into  a  boastful 
mood  for  the  day,  or  reduced  the  one  to  tear- 
ful silence,  and  the  other  to  apprehensive 
bravado.  But  now  the  baby  was  approaching 
his  first  anniversary,  and  it  was  perfectly  ob- 
vious that  his  weight  was  no  longer  a  matter  of 
concern.  He  was  so  large,  so  tall,  and  so  fat 
that  one  of  Nancy's  daily  satisfactions  was  to 
have  other  mothers,  in  the  park,  ask  her  his  age. 
She  looked  at  him  with  fond  complacency  rather 
than  apprehension  now,  feeling  that  every 
month  and  week  of  his  life  made  him  a  little 
more  sure  of  protracted  existence,  and  herself 
a  little  more  safe  as  his  mother. 

"How  do  you  mean — afford?"  Bert  asked. 
*'  We  pay  our  bills,  and  we're  not  in  debt." 


58  UNDERTOW 

"When  I  say  'afford,'"  Nancy  answered, 
"I  mean  that  we  do  not  Hve  without  a  fright- 
ful amount  of  worry  and  fuss  about  money. 
To  just  keep  out  of  debt,  and  make  ends  meet, 
is  not  my  idea  of  Hfe ! " 

"It's  the  way  lots  of  people  live — if  they're 
lucky,"  Bert  submitted,  picking  Junior's  damp 
crust  from  the  floor,  eyeing  it  dubiously,  and 
substituting  another  crust  in  its  place. 

"Well,  it's  all  wrong!"  Nancy  stated  posi- 
tively. "There  should  be  a  comfortable  living 
for  everyone  in  this  world  who  works  even  half 
as  hard  as  you  do — and  if  any  one  wants  to 
work  harder,  let  him  have  the  luxuries! " 

"That's  socialism,  Nance." 

She  raised  her  pretty  brows  innocently. 

"Is  it?  Well,  I'm  not  a  socialist.  I  guess  I 
just  don't  understand." 

She  knew,  as  the  weeks  went  by,  that  there 
were  other  things  she  could  not  understand. 
Toil  as  she  might,  from  morning  until  night. 


N 


UNDERTOW  59 

there  was  always  something  undone.     It  puz- 
zled her  strangely. 

Other  women  had  even  harder  problems, 
what  did  they  do?  Few  women  had  steady, 
clever  husbands  like  Bert.  Few  had  energy 
and  enthusiasm  like  hers.  But  she  was  so 
tired,  all  the  time,  that  even  when  the  daily 
routine  ran  smoothly,  and  the  marketing  and 
Junior's  naps  and  meals  occurred  on  schedule 
time,  the  result  hardly  seemed  worth  while. 
She  whisked  through  breakfast  and  breakfast 
dishes,  whisked  through  the  baby's  bath,  had 
her  house  in  order  when  he  awakened  from  his 
nap,  wheeled  him  to  market,  wheeled  him  home 
for  another  bottle  and  another  nap.  Then  it 
was  time  for  her  own  meal,  and  there  were  a  few 
more  dishes,  and  some  simple  laundry  work  to 
do,  and  then  again  the  boy  was  dressed,  and 
the  perambulator  was  bumped  out  of  the  niche 
below  the  stairs,  and  they  went  out  again.  The 
hardest  hour  of  all,  in  the  warm  lengthening 


6o  UNDERTOW 

days  of  spring,  was  between  five  and  six. 
Junior  was  tired  and  cross,  dinner  preparations 
were  under  way,  the  table  must  be  set,  one  more 
last  bottle  warmed.  When  Bert  came  in, 
Nancy,  flushed  and  tired,  was  ready,  and  he 
might  play  for  a  few  minutes  with  Junior  be- 
fore he  was  tucked  up.  But  the  relaxation  of 
the  meal  was  trying  to  Nancy,  and  the  last 
dishes  a  weary  drag.  She  would  go  to  her  chair, 
when  they  were  done,  and  sit  stupidly  staring 
ahead  of  her.  Sometimes,  in  this  daze,  she 
would  reach  for  the  fallen  sheets  of  the  evening 
paper,  and  read  them  indifferently.  Some- 
times she  merely  battled  with  yawns,  before 
taking  herself  wearily  to  bed. 

"Can  I  get  you  your  book,  dear?"  Bert 
might  ask. 

"No-o-o!  I'm  too  sleepy.  I  put  my  head 
down  on  the  bed  beside  Junior  to-day,  and  I've 
been  as  heavy  as  lead  ever  since !  Besides,  I  for- 
got to  wash  my  hands,  and  they're  dishwatery. 


>> 


UNDERTOW  6i 

"What  tires  you  so,  do  you  suppose?" 

"Oh,  nothing  special,  and  eveiylhing!  I 
think  watching  the  baby  is  very  tiring.  He 
never  uses  all  my  time,  and  yet  I  can't  do  any- 
thing else  while  I  have  him.  And  then  he's  get- 
ting so  mischievous — he  makes  work! " 

*' What '11  you  do  next  year?"  Bert  questioned 
sometimes  dubiously. 

"Oh,  we'll  manage!"  And  with  a  sleepy 
smile,  and  a  sleepy  kiss,  Nancy  would  trail 
away,  only  too  grateful  to  reach  her  bed  after 
the  hard  hours. 

Bert  had  carefully  calculated  upon  her  spring 
wardrobe,  and  she  became  quite  her  animated 
self  over  the  excitement  of  selecting  new  clothes. 
They  left  Esmeralda  in  charge  of  Junior,  and 
made  an  afternoon  of  it,  and  dined  down  town 
in  the  old  way.  Over  the  meal  Bert  told  her 
that  he  had  made  exactly  three  hundred  dollars 
at  a  blow,  in  a  commission,  and  that  she  and 
the  boy  were  going  to  the  country  for  six  weeks. 


62  UNDERTOW 

This  led  to  a  wonderful  hour,  when  they  com- 
pared feelings,  and  reviewed  their  adventure. 
Nancy  marvelled  at  the  good  fortune  that  fol- 
lowed them,  "we  are  marvellously  lucky,  aren't 
we,  Bert?"  she  asked,  appreciatively.  She 
had  just  spent  almost  a  hundred  dollars  for 
her  summer  clothes  and  the  boy's!  And  now 
they  were  really  going  to  the  blessed  country,  to 
be  free  for  six  weeks  from  planning  meals  and 
scraping  vegetables  and  stirring  cereals.  Radi- 
antly, they  discussed  mountains  and  beaches, 
even  buying  a  newspaper,  on  the  hot  walk  home, 
to  pore  over  in  search  of  the  right  place. 


Chapter  Eight 

"The  Old  Hill  House,"  on  the  north  Connec- 
ticut line,  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true. 
Tt  was  an  unpretentious  country  hotel,  and 
Nancy  and  Junior  settled  themselves  in  one  of 
its  hot,  second-stor>'  rooms  feeling  almost 
guiltily  happy.  Nancy  kissed  Bert  good-bye 
on  the  first  Monday  morning  assuring  him  that 
she  had  nothing  to  do!  To  go  down  to  meals, 
and  they  were  good  meals,  without  the  slightest 
share  in  the  work  of  preparing  them,  and  to 
be  able  to  wear  dainty  clothes  without  the  ruin- 
ous contact  with  the  kitchen,  seemed  too  lux- 
urious. 

But  she  was   not   quite  idle,   none-the-less. 

Junior  had   to  have  his  morning  bath,  after 

breakfast,  and  while  he  was  in  the  tub,  his 

mother  washed  six  bottles  in  the  hand-basin, 

63 


64  UNDERTOW 

Then,  on  a  tiltish  alcohol  stove,  Nancy  had  to 
boil  his  barley  for  twenty  endless  minutes. 
When  the  stove  upset  there  was  an  additional 
half-hour's  hard  work,  but  even  when  it  did  not, 
it  was  usually  ten  o'clock  before  she  went  down 
to  the  kitchen  for  his  two  quarts  of  milk.  Then 
came  the  usual  careful  work  with  the  "ouncer," 
and  the  six  filled  bottles  were  put  into  Nancy's 
own  small  ice-box,  to  which  one  of  the  maids 
was  then  supposed  to  bring  a  small  piece  of 
ice.  The  left-over  milk  was  taken  back  to  the 
kitchen,  and  Nancy  washed  the  little  saucepan 
in  her  hand-basin,  and  put  aw^ay  stove  and 
barley.  By  this  time  Junior  was  ready  for 
another  bottle,  and  when  he  went  to  sleep  his 
mother  went  down  to  the  laundry  with  an  arm- 
full  of  small  garments. 

There  was  no  other  way.  Labour  was  scarce 
in  the  village,  and  Nancy  could  get  no  one 
of  the  housemaids  to  take  upon  herself  this 
daily    task.     Women   from   the   outside   were 


UNDERTOW  65 

not  allowed  in  the  hotel  laundr>%  and  so  the 
task  fell  naturally  to  the  baby's  mother.  She 
assumed  it  gladly,  but  when  the  hne  of  snowy 
linen  was  blowing  free  in  the  summer  wind,  and 
the  cake  of  soap  had  been  put  on  its  special 
rafter,  and  the  tubs  were  draining,  Nancy  usually 
went  up  to  her  bedroom,  tiptoeing  in  because 
of  the  sleeper,  and  flung  herself  down  for  a 
heavy  nap. 

After  luncheon  she  gathered  in  her  linen  and 
watched  by  the  wideawake  baby.  Then  they 
went  down  to  the  cool  shade  by  the  creek,  and 
Junior  threw  stones,  and  splashed  fat  hands  in 
the  shallows,  and  his  mother  watched  him  ador- 
ingly. It  never  entered  her  head  that  she  was 
anything  but  privileged  to  be  able  to  slave  for 
him.  He  was  always  and  supremely  worth 
while.  Nancy's  only  terrors  were  that  some- 
thing would  happen  to  rob  her  of  the  honour. 
She  wanted  no  other  company;  Junior  was  her 
world,    except    when    Saturday's    noon    train 


66  QNDERTOW 

brought  Bert.  She  told  her  husband,  and 
meant  it,  that  she  was  too  happy;  they  did  not 
need  the  world. 

But  sometimes  the  world  intruded,  and  turned 
Nancy's  hard- won  philosophy  to  ashes.  She 
did  not  want  to  be  idle,  and  she  did  not  want 
to  be  rich,  but  when  she  saw  women  younger 
than  herself,  in  no  visible  way  inferior,  who 
were  both,  her  calm  was  shattered  for  a  time. 

One  day  she  and  Bert  wheeled  the  boy,  in 
his  small  cart,  down  a  pleasant  unfamiliar 
roadway,  and  across  a  rustic  bridge,  and,  smil- 
ing over  their  adventure,  found  themselves 
close  to  a  low,  wide-spreading  Colonial  house, 
with  striped  awnings  shading  its  wide  porches, 
and  girls  and  men  in  white  grouped  about  a 
dozen  tea-tables.  Tennis  courts  were  near  by, 
and  several  motor-cars  stood  beside  the  pebbled 
drive. 

A  gray-uniformed  attendant  came  to  them, 
civilly.     Did  they  wish  to  see  some  member  of 


UNDERTOW  67 

the  club!  "Oh,  it  is  a  club  then,"  Bert  asked,  a 
little  too  carelessly.  "It  is  the  Silver  River 
Country  Club,  sir." 

"Oh,  well,  we'll  get  out  of  here,  then,"  Bert 
said  good  naturedly,  as  he  turned  the  perambu- 
lator on  the  gravel  under  a  hundred  casual  eyes. 
He  and  Nancy  chatted  quite  naturally  about 
their  mistake,  as  they  re-crossed  the  rustic 
bridge,  and  went  up  the  unfamiliar  roadway 
again.  But  a  cloud  lay  over  them  for  the  rest 
of  that  day,  and  that  night  Nancy  said : 

"What  must  one  have — or  be — to  belong  to 
a  thing  like  that,  Bert?  " 

"To— oh,  that  club?"  Bert  answered,  "Oh, 
it  isn't  so  much.  A  hundred  initiation,  and  a 
hundred  a  year,  I  suppose." 

"We  could  do  that— some  year,"  Nancy  pre- 
dicted. 

"Well,  it  isn't  only  that.  There's  no  use 
joining  a  country  club,"  Bert  said  musingly, 
"unless  you  can   do   the   thing  decently.     It 


68  UNDERTOW 

means  signing  checks  for  tea,  and  cocktails, 
and  keeping  a  car,  and  the  Lord  knows  what! 
It  means  tennis  rackets  and  golf  sticks  and  tips 
and  playing  bridge  for  a  stake.  It  all  counts 
up!" 

"Where  do  all  those  people  get  the  money?" 
Nancy  asked  resentfully.  "They  looked  com- 
mon, tome!" 

"We'll  get  there,  never  you  fret!"  Bert  an- 
swered vaguely.  But  long  after  he  was  asleep 
his  wife  lay  awake  in  the  hot  hotel  bedroom, 
and  thought  darkly  of  fate.  She  came  of  gentle 
stock,  and  she  would  meet  her  lot  bravely, 
but  oh,  how  she  longed  for  ease,  for  a  little  lux- 
ury, for  coolness  and  darkness  and  silence  and 
service,  for  frothy  laces  and  the  touch  of  silk! 

Lights  came  up  from  the  lawn  before  the 
hotel.  It  was  Sunday  night,  and  the  young 
people  were  making  the  most  of  the  precious 
week-end,  Nancy  heard  a  clock  somewhere 
strike  ten,  and  then  the  single  stroke  for  the 


UNDERTOW  69 

half-hour.  She  got  up  and  sat  beside  the  win- 
dow; the  night  was  insufferably  close,  with 
not  a  breath  of  air. 

Junior  sighed;  his  mother  arose,  stricken,  and 
lighted  a  shaded  lamp.  Half-past-ten  and  she 
had  forgotten  his  bottle ! 

When  she  carried  it  over  to  him,  he  was  wide 
awake,  his  face  sober,  his  aureole  of  bright  hair 
damp  with  the  heat.  But  at  the  sight  of  his 
playfellow  his  four  new  teeth  came  suddenly  into 
sight.  Here  was  "Mugger,"  the  unfailing  so- 
lace and  cheer  of  his  life.  He  gave  her  a  beatific 
smile,  and  seized  the  bottle  with  a  rapturous 
"glug."  Bert  was  roused  by  her  laughter, 
and  the  soft  sound  of  kisses. 


Chapter  Nhte 

When  the  second  boy  came,  in  early  Decem- 
ber the  Bradleys  decided  to  move.  They  moved 
into  a  plain,  old-fashioned  flat,  with  two 
enormous  rooms,  two  medium-sized,  and 
two  small  ones,  in  an  unfashionable  street, 
and  in  a  rather  inaccessible  block.  There  was 
a  drug  store  at  the  corner  opposite  them,  but 
the  park  was  only  a  long  block  away,  and  the 
back  rooms  were  flooded  with  sunshine.  Nancy 
had  only  two  flights  of  stairs  to  climb,  instead  of 
four,  and  plenty  of  room  for  the  two  cribs  and 
the  high  chair.  Also  she  had  room  for 
Elite,  the  coloured  girl  who  put  herself  at  the 
Bradleys'  disposal  for  three  dollars  a  week. 
Elite  knew  nothing  whatever,  but  she  had  will- 
ing hands  and  wiUing  feet.  She  had  the  sud- 
den laugh   of  a  maniac,   but   she  held  some 

70 


UNDERTOW  71 

strange  power  over  the  Bradley  babies  and  they 
obeyed  her  Hghtest  word. 

They  moved  on  the  day  after  Christmas,  when 
Edward  Barrett  Bradley  was  only  three  weeks 
old.  Elite  and  Bert  did  the  moving,  and  Nancy 
only  laughed  weakly  at  their  experiences.  Jun- 
ior contracted  chicken-pox  during  this  time,  and 
the  family  was  quarantined  on  New  Year's  Eve. 

Bert  and  his  wife  celebrated  the  occasion 
with  a  quart  of  oysters,  eaten  with  hat-pins 
from  a  quart  measure.  The  invalid  slumbered 
in  the  same  room,  behind  a  screen.  He  was 
having  a  very  light  attack,  and  Nancy,  who  had 
been  hanging  over  him  all  day,  was  reassured 
to-night,  and  in  wild  spirits.  She  laughed  the 
tears  into  her  eyes  when  xA.lbert  Senior,  hearing 
the  tentative  horns  at  nine  o'clock,  telephoned 
the  fish  market  for  the  wherewithal  to  cele- 
brate. Bert  had  been  hanging  pictures,  and 
was  dirty  and  tired,  but  they  got  quite  hysterical 
with  merriment  over  their  feast.     The  "new 


72  UNDERTOW 

boy,"  as  they  called  the  baby,  presently 
was  brought  in,  and  had  his  own  meal,  before 
the  old-fashioned  coal  fire.  Nancy  sat  dream- 
ing over  the  small  curved  form. 

"We'll  think  this  is  very  funny,  some  day!" 
she  said,  dauntlessly. 

Bert  merely  looked  at  her.  But  after  a  while 
he  tried  to  tell  her  what  he  thought  about  it, 
and  so  made  their  third  New  Year  memorable 
to  her  forever. 

She  settled  down  quickly,  in  the  new  quarters; 
some  visionary,  romancing  phase  of  Nancy's 
character  and  Nancy's  roses  disappeared  for  a 
time.  She  baked  and  boiled,  sewed  on  buttons, 
bandaged  fingers,  rose  gallantly  to  the  days' 
demands.  She  learned  the  economical  value  of 
soups  and  salads,  and  schooled  herself,  at  least 
every  other  day,  to  leave  the  boys  for  an  hour 
or  two  with  Elite,  and  walk  out  for  a  little 
bracing  solitude.  Bert  watched  her  in  admir- 
ing amazement.     His  wife  was  a  wonder! 


UNDERTOW  73 

Sometimes,  on  a  cold  afternoon,  she  walked 
down  to  meet  Bert,  and  they  went  together  to 
dinner.  Their  talk  was  practical  now,  of  suits 
and  rubber  overshoes  and  milk  bills.  And  Nancy 
was  too  tired  to  walk  home ;  they  went  home  in 
the  rubber-scented  dampness  of  a  surface  car. 

Sometimes,  as  she  went  through  the  morning 
routine,  the  baths,  bottles,  dishes,  the  picking 
up,  the  disheartening  conferences  over  the 
ice  box,  she  wondered  what  had  become  of  the 
old  southern  belle,  Nancy  Barrett,  who  had 
laughed  and  flirted  and  only  a  few  years  ago, 
who  had  been  such  a  strong  and  pretty  and 
confident  egotist?  There  was  no  egotism  left 
in  Nancy  now,  she  was  only  a  busy  woman  in 
a  world  of  busy  women.  She  knew  backache 
and  headache,  and  moods  of  weary  irritation. 
The  cut  of  her  gowns,  the  little  niceties  of 
table-service  or  of  children's  clothing  no  longer 
concerned  her.  She  merely  wanted  her  family 
comfortable,  fed  and  housed  and  clothed,  and 


74  UNDERTOW 

well.  Nancy  could  advise  other  women  about 
the  capable  handling  of  children,  before  her 
firstborn  was  three  years  old. 

They  never  went  to  "The  Old  Hill  House" 
again,  but  they  found  a  primitive  but  comfort- 
able hotel  in  the  Maine  woods,  for  Ned's  second 
summer,  and  for  several  summers  after  that. 
Here  Nancy  slept  and  tramped  and  rested 
happily,  welcoming  Bert  rapturously  every 
week-end.  In  near-by  cabins,  young  matrons 
like  herself  were  hkewise  solving  the  chil- 
dren's summer  problem,  she  was  never  lonely, 
and  the  eight  free,  pine-scented  weeks  were 
cloudlessly  happy.  She  told  Bert  that  it  was 
the  only  sensible  solution  for  persons  in  moder- 
ate circumstances;  old  clothes,  simple  food, 
utter  solitude. 

"There  are  no  comparisons  to  spoil  things," 
Nancy  said,  contentedly.  "  I  know  I'm  small- 
minded,  Bert.  But  seeing  things  I  can't  have 
does  upset  me,  somehow!" 


Chapter  Ten 

Nevertheless,  she  accepted  the  invitation 
that  came  from  Bert's  cousin  Dorothy,  one 
autumn,  for  a  week-end  visit.  Dorothy  had 
married  now,  and  had  a  baby.  She  was  living 
in  a  rented  "place,"  up  near  Rhinecliff,  she 
wrote,  and  she  wanted  to  see  something  of 
Cousin  Bert. 

Neither  Bert  nor  Nancy  could  afterward 
remember  exactly  why  they  went.  It  was 
partly  curiosity,  perhaps;  partly  the  strong 
lure  exerted  by  Dorothy's  casual  intimation 
that  "the  car"  would  come  for  them,  and  that 
this  particular  week-end  was  "the  big  dance, 
at  the  club."  Bert  chanced  to  have  a  new 
suit,  and  Nancy  had  a  charming  blue  taffeta 
that  seemed  to  her  good  enough  for  any  place 
or  anybody. 

75 


76  UNDERTOW 

The  boys  were  asked,  but  they  did  not 
take  them.  Ned  was  ahnost  two  now,  and 
Junior  past  three,  and  they  behaved  beautifully 
with  Hannah,  the  quiet  old  Danish  woman  who 
had  been  with  them  since  they  came  back  from 
the  woods,  the  year  before.  Nancy,  full  of  ex- 
cited anticipation,  packed  her  suit-case  daintily, 
and  fluttered  downstairs  as  happily  as  a  girl, 
when  a  hundredth  glance  at  the  street  showed 
the  waiting  motor  at  last. 

Hawkes  was  the  chauffeur.  "To  Mr.  Brad- 
ley's office  please,  Hawkes,"  said  Nancy. 
She  could  not  think  of  anything  friendly  to 
say  to  him,  as  they  wheeled  through  the  streets. 
Bert  kept  them  waiting,  and  once  or  twice 
she  said  "I  can't  think  what's  delaying  Mr. 
Bradley."     But  Hawkes  did  not  answer. 

Presently  Bert  came  out  and  greeted  Nancy 
and  Hawkes. 

"But  I  thought  Mrs.  Benchley  was  coming 
into  town  to-day,"  Bert  said.    Dorothy  was 


UNDERTOW  77 

now  Mrs,  George  Benchley.  Hawkes  spoke  at 
last.  "An  old  friend  of  Mrs.  Benchley  has 
unexpectedly  arrived  this  morning,  sir,  and 
she  has  changed  her  mind."  "Oh,  all  right," 
said  Bert,  grinning  at  Nancy  as  the  pleasant 
drive  began. 

It  was  all  wonderful;  the  bright  autumn  sun- 
shine, the  sense  of  freedom  and  leisure  in  the 
early  afternoon,  and  the  lovely  roads  they 
followed.  Bert  however,  seemed  to  be  thinking 
of  his  sons,  and  asked  of  them  more  than  once. 
And  Nancy  could  not  rid  herself  of  an  uncom- 
fortable suspicion  that  whoever  Dorothy's 
old  friend  was,  she  had  changed  Dorothy's 
plans,  and  perhaps  made  the  coming  of  the 
Bradleys  untimely.  Now  and  then  husband 
and  wife  smiled  at  each  other  and  said  "  This  is 
fun!" 

Dorothy's  "place"  was  a  beautiful  estate, 
heavily  wooded,  wound  with  white  driveways, 
and  equipped  with  its  own  tennis  courts,  and 


78  UNDERTOW 

its  boathouse  on  the  river.  The  house  was 
enormous,  and  naturally  had  assumed  none 
of  the  personality  of  its  occupants,  in  this 
casual  summer  tenancy.  There  were  countless 
rooms,  all  filled  with  tables  and  chairs  and  rugs 
and  desks  and  bowls  of  flowers;  and  several 
maids  came  and  went  in  the  interest  of  the 
comfort  of  the  house.  There  wxre  seven  or 
eight  other  guests  besides  the  Bradleys,  and 
they  all  seemed  to  know  each  other  well.  The 
unexpected  guest  was  a  }'Oung  Mrs.  Catlin 
affectionately  mentioned  by  Dorothy  in  ever}' 
Other  breath  as  "Elaine";  she  and  Dorothy 
had  been  taken  to  Europe  together,  after  their 
schooldays,  and  had  formed  an  intimacy  then. 
Dorothy  came  into  the  big  hall  to  meet 
her  cousin  and  his  wife,  and,  with  a  little  laugh, 
kissed  Bert.  She  looked  particularly  young 
and  lovely  in  what  Nancy  supposed  to  be  a 
carefully-selected  costume;  later  she  realized 
that  all  Dorothy's  clothes  gave  this  impression. 


UNDERTOW  79 

She  said  that  the  baby  was  out,  when  Nancy 
asked  for  him,  and  that  Katharine  would  take 
care  of  them. 

Katharine,  an  impassive  maid,  led  them  up- 
stairs, and  to  the  large  room  in  which  their 
suit  cases  already  stood.  Dorothy  had  said, 
"  After  you  change,  come  down  and  have  some- 
thing to  drink!"  but  Nancy  had  nothing  pret- 
tier than  the  taffeta,  except  her  evening  gown, 
and  as  the  sunshine  was  streaming  into  the 
room,  she  could  not  change  to  that.  So  she 
merely  freshened  her  appearance,  and  wasted 
fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  in  a  close  inspection 
of  the  room,  before  they  went  down.  To  her 
somewhat  shy  question  Bert  responded  en- 
thusiastically, "You  look  lovely!" 

They  went  through  empty  open  rooms,  talk- 
ing as  naturally  as  they  could,  and  smilingly 
joined  the  others  on  the  porch.  Tea  and  other 
drinks  were  being  dispensed  by  Elaine,  whose 
attention  was  meanwhile  absorbed  by  two  young 


So  UNDERTOW 

men.  Dorothy,  lying  almost  flat  in  a  wicker 
chair,  with  her  small  silk-shod  ankles  crossed, 
was  lazily  arguing  some  question  of  golf 
scores. 

She  introduced  the  new-comers,  and  as  Bert, 
somewhat  more  at  home  in  his  cousin's  house 
than  his  wife  was,  fell  into  conversation  with 
the  middle-aged  man  nearest  him,  Dorothy 
dutifully  addressed  herself  to  Nancy.  They 
spoke  of  Bert's  mother,  and  of  Boston,  and 
Dorothy  asked  Nancy  if  she  liked  tennis — 
or  golfing — or  yachting?  There  was  to  be 
quite  a  large  dance  at  the  club  to-night,  and  an 
entertainment  before  it. 

"Isn't  Dorothy  a  wonder,  Mrs.  Bradley?" 
asked  Elaine.  "She's  going  to  have  twenty 
people  to  dinner,  she  runs  this  big  house,  she's 
got  a  baby  not  yet  sLx  months  old,  and  she 
looks  about  sixteen!" 

"You  must  have  wonderful  maids,"  suggested 
Nancy,  smiling. 


UNDERTOW  8i 

"I  have!"  said  Dorothy  amusedly,  "They're 
crazy  about  me — I  don't  know  why,  because  I 
work  them  Uke  dogs.  But  of  course  we're 
away  a  lot,  and  then  they  always  have  parties," 
she  added,  "and  they  run  things  pretty  much 
to  suit  themselves.  But  we  have  good  meals, 
don't  we,  Elaine?  "  she  asked,  childishly. 

"Heavenly!"  said  Elaine.  Nancy,  trying 
to  appear  brightly  sympathetic,  smiled  again. 

But  she  and  Bert  dressed  for  dinner  almost 
silently,  an  hour  later.  It  was  all  delightful 
and  luxurious,  truly,  and  they  were  most  con- 
siderately and  hospitably  accepted  by  the  en- 
tire establishment.  But  something  was  wrong. 
Nancy  did  not  know  what  it  was,  and  she  did 
not  want  to  risk  a  mere  childish  outburst,  so 
easily  construed  into  jealousy.  Perhaps  it 
was  jealousy. 

She  found  herself  arguing,  as  she  dressed. 
This  sort  of  thing  was  not  life,  after  all.  The 
quiet  wife  of  an  obscure  man,  rejoicing  in  her 


82  UNDERTOW 

home  and  her  children,  had  a  thousand  times 
more  real  pleasure.  These  well-dressed  idle 
people  didn't  count,  after  all.     .     .     . 

"Sort  of  nice  of  Dorothy  to  send  Hawkes  in 
for  us,"  Bert  said;  "Did  you  hear  her  explain 
that  she  thought  we'd  be  more  comfortable  with 
Hawkes,  so  she  and  Mrs.  Catlin  kept  the 
younger  man?" 

"Considerate!"  Nancy  said,  lifelessly. 

"Isn't  it  a  wonder  she  isn't  spoiled?"  Bert 
pursued. 

"Really  it  is!" 

"Benchley  looks  like  an  ass,"  Bert  conceded. 
"But  he's  not  so  bad.  He's  in  the  firm  now, 
you  know,  and  Dorothy  was  just  telling  me  that 
he's  taken  hold  wonderfully." 

"Isn't  that  nice?"  Nancy  said,  mildly.  She 
was  struggling  with  her  hair,  which  entirely 
refused  to  frame  her  face  in  its  usual  rich  waves, 
and  lay  flat  or  split  into  unexpected  partings 
despite    her    repeated    efforts.     "How's    that 


UNDERTOW  83 


now,  Bert?  "  she  asked,  turning  toward  him  with 
an  arrangement  half-completed. 

"Well — that's  all  right "  he  began  un- 
certainly. Nancy,  dropping  the  brown  strands, 
and  tossing  the  whole  hot  mass  free,  felt  that  she 
could  burst  into  tears. 


Chapter  Eleven 

The  dinner  was  an  ordeal;  her  partner  was 
unfortunately  interested  only  in  motor-cars,  of 
which  Nancy  could  find  little  that  was  intelli- 
gent to  say.  She  felt  like  what  she  was,  a 
humble  relative  out  of  her  element.  After 
dinner  they  were  all  packed  into  cars,  and  swept 
to  the  club. 

Darkness  and  the  sound  of  a  comedian's  voice 
in  monologue  warned  them  as  they  entered  that 
the  entertainment  was  begun;  after  much  whis- 
pering, laughing  and  stumbling  however,  they 
were  piloted  to  chairs,  and  for  perhaps  an  hour 
and  a  half  Nancy  was  quite  alone,  and  much 
entertained.  Then  the  lights  went  up,  and  the 
crowd  surged  noisily  to  and  fro. 

She  lost  sight  of  Bert,  but  was  duly  intro- 
duced to  new  people;  and  they  spoke  of  the 

84 


UNDERTOW  85 

successful  entertainment,  and  of  the  club-house. 
Nancy  danced  only  once  or  twice,  and  until 
almost  two  o'clock  sat  talking,  principally  with 
a  pleasant  old  lady,  who  had  a  daughter  to 
chaperon. 

Then  the  first  departures  began,  and  Nancy 
had  a  merry  good-night  from  Dorothy,  called 
over  the  latter 's  powdered  shoulder  as  she 
danced,  and  went  home.  She  was  silent,  as 
she  undressed,  but  Bert,  yawning,  said  that  he 
had  had  a  good  time.  He  said  that  Dorothy 
had  urged  them  to  stay  until  Monday  morning, 
but  he  did  not  see  how  he  could  make  it.  He 
hated  to  get  started  late  at  the  office  Monday 
morning.     Nancy  eagerly  agreed. 

"You  do  feel  so?"  he  asked,  in  satisfaction. 
"  Well,  that  setUes  it,  then!     We'll  go  home  to- 


morrow." 


And  home  they  did  go,  on  the  following  after- 
noon. Nancy,  counting  the  hours,  nevertheless 
enjoyed  the  delicious  breakfast,  when  she  had 


86  UNDERTOW 

quite  a  spirited  chat  with  one  or  two  of  the  men 
guests,  who  were  the  only  ones  to  appear. 
Then  she  and  Bert  walked  into  the  village  to 
church,  and  wandering  happily  home,  were  met 
by  Dorothy  in  the  car,  and  whirled  to  the  club. 
Here  the  pleasant  morning  air  was  perfumed 
with  strong  cigars  already,  and  while  Bert 
played  nine  holes  of  golf,  and  covered  himself 
with  glory,  Nancy  won  five  rubbers  of  bridge, 
and  gained  the  respect  of  Dorothy  and  Elaine 
at  the  same  time.  She  was  more  like  her  spon- 
taneous self  at  luncheon  than  at  any  other  time 
during  the  visit,  and  driving  home,  agreed  with 
Bert  that,  when  you  got  to  know  them,  Dor- 
othy's set  was  not  so  bad! 

"  Her  baby  is  frightfully  ugly,  but  that  doesn't 
matter  so  much,  with  a  boy,"  said  Nancy. 
"And  I  don't  think  that  a  woman  like  Elaine 
is  so  rude  as  she  is  stupid.  They  simply  can't 
see  anything  else  but  their  way  of  thinking,  and 
dressing,  and  talking,  and  so  they  stare  at  you 


UNDERTOW  87 

as  if  you  were  a  Hottentot!    I  had  a  nice  time, 
especially  to-day — ^but  never  again!" 

"Dorothy  never  did  have  any  particular 
beau,"  Bert  observed,  "She  just  likes  to  dress 
in  those  little  silky,  stripy  things,  and  have 
everyone  praising  her,  all  the  time.  She'll  ask 
us  again,  sometime,  when  she  remembers  us." 


Chapter  Twelve 

But  it  was  almost  a  year  before  Dorothy 
thought  of  her  cousins  again,  and  then  the 
proud  Nancy  wrote  her  that  the  arrival  of 
Anne  Bradley  was  daily  expected,  and  no  plans 
could  be  made  at  present.  Anne  duly  came,  a 
rose  of  a  baby,  and  Nancy  said  that  luck  came 
with  her. 

Certainly  Anne  was  less  than  a  week  old  when 
Bert  told  his  wife  that  old  Souchard,  whose 
annoying  personality  had  darkened  all  Bert's 
ofi&ce  days,  had  retired,  gone  back  to  Paris! 
And  Bert  was  head  man,  "in  the  field."  His 
salary  was  not  what  Bouchard's  had  been,  nat- 
urally, but  the  sixty  dollars  would  be  doubled, 
some  weeks,  by  commissions;  there  would  be 
lots  of  commissions,  now!  Now  they  could 
save,  announced  Nancy. 

88 


UNDERTOW  89 

But  they  did  not  save.  They  moved  again, 
toapleasanter  apartment,  and  Hannah  did  wash- 
ing and  cooking,  and  Grace  came,  to  help  with 
the  children.  Nancy  began  to  make  calls 
again,  and  had  the  children's  pictures  taken,  for 
Grandmother  Bradley,  and  sometimes  gave 
luncheons,  with  cards  to  follow.  She  and  Bert 
could  go  to  the  theatre  again,  and,  if  it  was  rain- 
ing, could  come  home  in  a  taxicab. 

It  was  a  modest  life,  even  with  all  this  pros- 
perit}^  Nancy  had  still  enough  to  do,  mending 
piled  up,  marketing  grew  more  complicated, 
and  on  alternate  Thursdays  and  Sundays  she 
herself  had  to  fill  Hannah's  place,  or  Grace's 
place.  They  began  to  think  that  life  would  be 
simpler  in  the  country,  and  instead  of  taking 
the  children  to  the  parks,  as  was  their  happy 
Sunday  custom,  they  went  now  to  Jersey,  to 
Westchester,  and  to  Staten  Island. 

The  houses  they  passed,  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  them,  filled  them  with  enthusiasm. 


90  UNDERTOW 

Sunday  was  a  pleasant  day,  in  the  suburbs. 
The  youngsters,  everywhere,  were  in  white- 
froHcking  about  open  garage  doors,  bare- 
headed on  their  bicycles,  barefooted  beside 
beaches  or  streams.  Their  mothers,  also  white- 
clad,  were  busy  with  agreeable  pursuits — 
gathering  roses,  or  settling  babies  for  naps  in 
shaded  hammocks.  Lawn  mowers  clicked  in 
the  hands  of  the  white-clad  men,  or  a  group  of 
young  householders  gathered  for  tennis,  or  for 
consultation  about  a  motor-car. 

Nancy  and  Bert  began  to  tentatively  ask 
about  rents,  to  calculate  coal  and  commutation 
tickets.  The  humblest  little  country  house, 
with  rank  neglected  grass  about  it,  and  a  kit- 
chen odorous  of  new  paint  and  old  drains,  held 
a  strange  charm  for  them. 

"They  could  live  out-of-doors!"  said  Nancy, 
of  the  children.  "And  I  want  their  memories 
to  be  sweet,  to  be  homelike  and  natural.  The 
city  really  isn't  the  place  for  children! " 


UNDERTOW  91 

"I'd  like  it!"  Bert  said,  for  like  most  men  he 
was  simple  in  his  tastes,  and  a  vision  of  himself 
and  his  sons  cutting  grass,  picking  tomatoes 
and  watering  gooseberry  bushes  had  a  certain 
appeal.  "  I'd  like  to  have  the  Cutters  out  for  a 
week-end!"  he  suggested.  Nancy  smiled  a 
httle  mechanically.  She  did  not  like  Amy 
Cutter. 

"And  we  could  ask  the  Featherstones!"  she 
remembered  suddenly. 

"Gosh!  Joe  Featherstone  is  the  limit!"  Bert 
said,  mildly. 

"Well,  however!"  Nancy  concluded,  hastily, 
"We  could  have  people  out,  that's  the  main 
thing!" 


Chapter  Thirteen 

For  a  year  or  two  the  Bradley s  kept  up  these 
Sunday  expeditions  without  accompUshing  any- 
thing definite.  But  they  accomphshed  a  great 
amount  of  indirect  happiness,  ate  a  hundred 
picnic  lunches,  and  accumulated  ten  times  that 
many  amusing,  and  inspiring,  and  pleasant, 
recollections.  Bert  carried  the  lovely  Anne; 
Nancy  had  the  thermos  bottle  and  Anne's  re- 
quirements in  a  small  suit-case;  and  the  boys 
had  a  neat  cardboard  box  of  lunch  apiece. 

And  then  some  months  after  their  seventh 
anniversary,  Bert  sold  the  Witcher  Place. 

This  was  the  most  important  financial  event 

of  their  lives.     The  Witcher  Place  had  been  so 

long  in  the  hands  of  Bert's  firm  for  sale  that 

it  had  become  a  household  word  in  the  Bradley 

family,  and  in  other  families.     Nobody  ever 

92 


UNDERTOW  93 

expected  to  pocket  the  handsome  commission 
that  the  owner  and  the  firm  between  them  had 
placed  upon  the  deal,  and  to  Nancy  the  thing 
was  only  a  myth  until  a  certain  autumn  Sun- 
day, when  she  and  Bert  and  the  children  were 
roaming  about  the  Jersey  hills,  and  stumbled 
upon  the  place. 

There  it  was;  the  decaying  mansion,  the 
neglected  avenue  and  garden,  the  acres  and 
acres  of  idle  orchard  and  field.  The  faded  sign- 
posts identified  it,  "Apply  to  the  Estate  of 
Eliot  Witcher." 

"Bert,  this  isn't  the  Witcher  Place!"  ex- 
claimed his  wife. 

Bert  was  as  interested  as  she.  They  pushed 
open  the  old  gate,  and  ate  their  luncheon  that 
day  sitting  on  the  lawn,  under  the  elms  that  the 
first  Eliot  Witcher  had  planted  a  hundred  years 
ago.  The  children  ran  wild  over  the  garden, 
Anne  took  her  nap  on  the  leaf-strewn  side 
porch. 


94  UNDERTOW 

"Bert — they  never  want  two  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  for  just  this!" 

Bert  threw  away  his  cigar,  and  flung  himself 
luxuriously  down  for  a  nap. 

"They'll  get  it,  Nance.  Somebody  '11  de- 
velop a  real  estate  deal  here  some  day.  They 
must  have  a  hundred  acres  here.  You'll  sec 
it— 'Witcher  Park'  or  'Witcher  Manor.'  The 
old  chap  who  inherited  it  is  as  rich  as  Croesus, 
he  was  in  the  ofhce  the  other  day,  he  wants  to 

sell. Hello!     I  was  in  the  office — garden — 

and  so  I  said — if  you  please " 

Bert  was  going  to  sleep.  His  wife  laughed 
sympathetically  as  the  staggering  words 
stopped,  and  deep  and  regular  breathing  took 
their  place.  She  sat  on^  in  the  afternoon  sun- 
light, looking  dreamily  about  her,  and  trying 
to  picture  life  here  a  hundred  years  a-go;  the 
gracious  young  mistress  of  the  new  mansion, 
the  ringlets  and  pantalettes,  the  Revloutionary 
War  still  well  remembered,  and  the  last  George 


UNDERTOW  95 

on  the  throne.  And  now  the  house  was  cold 
and  dead,  and  strange  little  boys,  in  sandals 
and  sturdy  galatea,  were  shouting  in  the  stable. 

Perhaps  she  was  drowsy  herself;  she  started 
awake,  and  touched  Bert.  An  old  man  and  a 
young  man  had  come  in  the  opened  gate,  and 
were  speaking  to  her. 

"I  beg  your  pardon!"  It  was  the  young 
man.     "  But — but  do  you  own  this  place?  " 

"  No — just  picnicking ! "  said  Bert,  wide  awake. 

"  But  it  is  for  sale?  "  asked  the  old  man.  Bert 
got  up,  and  brushed  the  leaves  from  his  clothes, 
and  the  three  men  walked  down  the  drive  to- 
gether. Nancy,  half-comprehending,  all-hoping 
looked  after  them.  She  saw  Bert  give  the  young 
man  his  card,  and  glance  at  the  same  time  at 
the  faded  sign,  as  if  he  appealed  to  it  to  confirm 
his  claim. 

She  hardly  dared  speak  when  he  came  back. 
Anne  awoke,  and  the  boys  must  be  summoned 
for  the  home  trip.     Bert  moved  dreamily,  he 


96  UNDERTOW 

seemed  dazed.  Only  once  did  he  speak  of  the 
Witcher  Place  that  night,  and  then  it  was  to 
say: 

"Perry — that's  that  old  chap's  name — said 
that  he  would  be  in  this  week,  at  the  office.  I'll 
bet  he  doesn't  come." 

"No,  I  don't  suppose  he  will,"  Nancy  said. 

"I  impressed  it  on  his  son  that  it  meant — 
something,  to  me,  to  have  him  ask  for  me,  if  he 
did  come,"  said  Bert,  then. 

"Bert,  you'd  better  skip  lunches,  this  week," 
Nancy  suggested  thoughtfully. 

"I  will — that's  a  good  idea,"  he  said.  She 
noticed  that  he  was  more  than  usually  gentle 
and  helpful  with  the  children,  that  night. 
Nancy  felt  his  strain,  and  her  own,  and  went 
through  Monday  sick  with  suspense. 

"Nothing  doing!"  said  Bert  cheerfully,  com- 
ing in  on  Monday  evening.  Tuesday  went  by 
— Wednesday  went  by.  On  Thursday  Nancy 
had  an  especially  nice  dinner,  because  Bert's 


UNDERTOW  97 

mother  had  come  down,  for  a  few  days'  visit. 
The  two  women  were  good  friends,  and  Nancy 
was  never  so  capable,  brisk,  and  busy  as  when 
these  sharp  but  approving  eyes  were  upon  her. 

The  elder  Mrs.  Bradley  approved  of  the 
children  heartily,  and  boasted  about  them  and 
their  clever  mother  when  she  went  home. 
Bert's  wife  was  so  careful  as  to  manners,  so 
sensible  about  food  and  clothes,  such  a  wonder- 
ful manager. 

To-night  Anne  was  in  her  grandmother's 
lap,  commandingly  directing  the  reading  of  a 
fairy-story.  Whenever  the  plot  seemed  thin  to 
Anne  she  threw  in  a  casual  demand  for  addi- 
tional lions,  dragons  or  giants,  as  her  fancy 
dictated.  Mrs.  Bradley  giving  Nancy  a  tre- 
mendously amused  and  sympathetic  smile, 
supplied  these  horrors  duly,  and  the  boys,  sup- 
posedly eating  their  suppers  at  one  end  of  the 
dining-room  table,  alternately  laughed  at  Anne 
and  agonized  with  her. 


98  -UNDERTOW 

Nancy  was  superintending  the  boys,  the 
elderly  woman  had  a  comfortable  chair  by  the 
fire,  and  Hannah  was  slowly  and  ponderously 
setting  the  table.  It  was  a  pretty  scene  for 
Bert's  eyes  to  find,  as  he  came  in,  and  he  gave 
his  mother  and  his  wife  a  more  than  usually 
affectionate  greeting. 

Nancy  followed  him  into  their  room,  taking 
Anne.  She  was  pleased  that  the  children  had 
been  so  sweet  with  their  grandmother,  pleased 
that  her  deep  dish  pie  had  come  out  so  well, 
happy  to  be  cosy  and  safe  at  home  while  the 
last  heayy  rains  of  October  battened  at  the 
windows. 

She  had  lowered  Anne,  already  undressed, 
into  her  crib  when  Bert  suddenly  drew  her 
away,  and  tipped  up  her  face  with  his  hand 
under  her  chin,  and  stared  into  her  surprised 
eyes. 

"Well,  old  girl,  I  got  it!  It  was  all  settled 
inside  of  twenty  minutes,  at  five  o'clock! " 


UNDERTOW  99 

"The ?  But  Bert I  don't  under- 
stand  "  Nancy  stammered.  And  then  sud- 
denly, with  a  rush  of  awed  dehght,  "Bert 
Bradley !     Not  the  Witcher  Place ! ' ' 

"Yep!"  Bert  answered  briefly.  "He  took 
it.     It's  all  settled." 


Chapter  Fourteen 

So  the  Bradleys  had  a  bank  account.  And 
even  before  the  precious  money  was  actually 
paid  them,  and  deposited  in  the  bank,  Nancy 
knew  what  they  were  going  to  do  with  it. 
There  was  only  one  sensible  thing  for  young 
persons  who  were  raising  a  family  on  a  small 
salary  to  do.  They  must  buy  a  country 
home. 

No  more  city,  no  more  rent-paying  for  Nancy 
and  Bert.  The  bank  account  had  just  five 
figures.  Nancy  and  Bert  said  that  they  could 
buy  a  lovely  home  anywhere  for  nine  thousand, 
and  have  a  whole  thousand  left  for  furniture 
and  incidentals.     They  could  begin  to  live ! 

A  week  later  they  began  their  hunt,  and  all 
through  the  white  winter  and  the  lovely  spring 
they   hunted.     They   asked   friends   about   it, 

lOO 


UNDERTOW  loi 

and  read  magazines,  and  the  advertisements 
in  the  Sunday  papers. 

Unfortunately,  however,  in  all  the  Saturdays 
and  the  Sundays  they  spent  hunting  for  their 
home,  they  never  saw  anything  that  cost  just 
nine  thousand  dollars.  There  were  hundreds  of 
places  that  cost  sixty-five  hundred  or  seven 
thousand.  After  that  prices  made  a  clean  leap 
to  ten  thousand,  to  twelve  thousand,  to  four- 
teen— "No,  it's  no  use  our  looking  at  those!" 
said  the  young  Bradleys,  sighing. 

They  learned  a  great  deal  about  houses,  and 
some  of  their  dreams  died  young.  It  was  no 
use,  the  agents  told  Nancy,  to  think  about  a 
pretty,  shabby,  old  farm-house,  for  those  had 
been  snapped  up.  If  she  found  one,  it  would 
be  a  foolish  investment,  because  it  probably 
would  be  surrounded  by  unrestricted  property. 
Restrictions  were  great  things,  and  all  devel- 
opments had  them  in  large  or  small  degree. 
There  were  developments  that  obliged  the  pur- 


I02  UNDERTOW 

chaser  of  land  to  submit  his  building  plans  to  a 
committee,  before  he  could  build. 

Nancy  laughed  that  she  shouldn't  care  for 
that.  And  when  restrictions  interfered  with  her 
plans  she  very  vigorously  opposed  them.  She 
told  Bert  that  she  would  not  consider  places 
that  did  not  allow  fences,  and  chickens,  and 
dogs,  and  all  the  other  pleasant  country 
things. 

Sometimes,  in  an  economical  mood,  the  Brad- 
leys  looked  at  the  six  and  seven  thousand  dollar 
bargains.  It  had  to  be  admitted  that  some  of 
them  were  extremely  nice.  Nice  neighbour- 
hoods, young  trees  set  out  along  the  street — 
trees  about  the  size  of  carriage  whips— nice 
sunny  bathroom,  nice  bedrooms — "we  could 
change  these  papers,"  Nancy  always  said — 
good  kitchen  and  closets,  gas  all  ready  to  con- 
nect, and  an  open  fireplace  in  the  dining  room. 
And  so  back  to  the  front  hall  again,  and  to  a 
rather  blank  moment  when  the  agent  obviously 


UNDERTOW  103 

expected  a  definite  decision,  and  the  Bradleys 
felt  unable  to  make  it. 

"What  don't  you  like  about  the  place?"  the 
agent  would  ask. 

"Well "  Bert  would  flounder.     "I  don't 

know.     I'll  talk  it  over  with  my  wife ! " 

"Better  decide  to  take  it,  Mr.  Bradley," 
the  agent,  whoever  he  was,  would  urge  seri- 
ously, "  We're  selling  these  places  awfully  fast, 
and  when  they're  gone  you  won't  find  anything 
else  like  them.  It's  only  because  this  chap 
that's  been  holding  this  property  suddenly " 

"Yes,  I  know,  you  told  me  about  his  drop- 
ping dead,"  Bert  would  hastily  remind  him. 
"Well — I'll  see.  I'll  let  you  know.  Come  on, 
kids!" 

And  the  Bradley  family  would  walk  away, 
not  too  hastily,  but  without  looking  back. 

"I  don't  know — but  it  was  so  like  all  the 
others,"  Nancy  would  complain,  "It  was  so 
utterly  commonplace!     Now  there,  Bert,  right 


I04  UNDERTOW 

in  the  village  street,  with  the  trees,  is  a  lovely 
place,  marked  'For  Sale.'  Do  let's  just  pass 
it!" 

"Darling  girl,  you  couldn't  touch  that  for 
twenty  thousand.  Right  there  by  the  track, 
too!" 

"  But  it  looks  so  homelike! " 

"  That  old  barn  in  the  back  looks  sort  of  odd 
to  me;  they've  got  a  sort  of  livery  stable  there 
in  the  back,  Nance,  you  couldn't  stand  that! " 

"No."  Nancy's  tone  and  manner  would 
droop,  she  would  go  slowly  by,  discouraged 
and  tired  until  another  week  end. 


Chapter  Fifteen 

One  day  Bert  told  Nancy  that  a  man  named 
Rogers  had  been  in  the  office,  and  had  been 
telling  him  about  a  place  called  Marlborough 
Gardens.  Usually  Bert's  firm  did  not  touch 
anything  small  enough  to  interest  him  as  a 
home,  but  in  this  case  the  whole  development 
was  involved,  and  the  obliging  Mr.  Rogers 
chanced  to  mention  to  Bert  that  he  had  some 
bargains  down  there  at  the  Gardens. 

"There's  nothing  in  it  for  him,  you  under- 
stand?" said  Bert  to  his  wife,  "But  he's  an 
awfully  decent  fellow,  and  he  got  interested. 
I  told  him  about  what  we'd  been  doing,  and  he 
roared.  He  says  that  we're  to  come  down 
Sunday,  and  see  what  he's  got,  and  if  we  don't 
Hke  it  he  can  at  any  rate  give  us  some  dope 

about  the  rest  of  the  places." 

105 


io6  UNDERTOW 

"  And  where  is  it,  Bert?  " 

"It's  down  on  the  Sound  side  of  Long  Is- 
land, thirty-seven  minutes  out  of  town,  right 
on  the  water." 

"  Oh,  Bert,  it  sounds  wonderful?  " 

"He  says  that  it's  the  most  amazing  thing 
that  ever  has  been  put  on  the  market.  He  says 
that  Morgan  and  Rockefeller  both  have  put 
money  into  it,  on  the  quiet." 

"  Well,  if  they  can  risk  their  little  all,  we  can 
take  a  chance ! ' '  giggled  Nancy. 

"Of  course  that  isn't  generally  known," 
Bert  warned  her,  "but  it  just  goes  to  show  you 
that  it's  a  big  thing.  He  was  telling  me  about 
this  feller  that  had  a  gorgeous  home  just  built 
there,  and  his  wife's  mother  gets  ill,  and  they 
all  move  to  California.  He  said  I  could  look  at 
it,  and  that  it  would  speak  for  itself." 

"Did  he  say  whether  there  were  any  trees?" 

"He  said  this  particular  place  had  wonderful 
trees." 


UNDERTOW  107 

"And  what's  the  price,  Bee?" 

Bert  knew  that  this  was  his  weak  point. 

"He  didn't  say,  old  girl." 

Nancy  looked  rueful,  her  castle  in  the  dust. 

"Oh,  Bert !    It  may  be  something  awful!" 

"No,  it  won't,  for  I'd  just  been  telling  him 
what  we  were  looking  at,  don't  you  see!" 

"Oh,  that  so?"  Nancy  was  relieved.  "But 
it  will  be  the  first  thing  /  ask  him,"  she  pre- 
dicted. 


Chapter  Sixteen 

However,  on  Sunday  she  forgot  to  ask  him. 
The  circumstances  were  so  unexpectedly  pleas- 
ant as  to  banish  from  her  head  any  pre-arranged 
plan  of  procedure.  It  was  a  glowing  June 
day,  soft,  perfumed,  and  breezy.  The  Brad- 
leys  went  to  Butler's  Hill,  which  was  "our 
station,"  as  Nancy  said,  and  there  the  agent 
met  them,  with  a  car.  He  drove  them  himself 
the  short  mile  from  the  railroad  to  Marlbor- 
ough Gardens. 

"Isn't  it  one  of  those  frightfully  smart  de- 
velopments?" Nancy  asked,  smiling  uneasily. 

"  It's  considered  the  finest  home  development 
on  Long  Island,"  the  agent  admitted  readily, 
"The  place  I'm  going  to  show  you — I'm  going 
to  show  you  two  or  three — but  the  special  place 

I  want  to  show  you,  was  built  for  a  home. 

1 08 


UNDERTOW  109 

There  isn't  a  finer  building  anywhere.  Lansing, 
the  man  who  built  it,  was  a  splendid  fellow,  with 
a  lovely  wife — lovely  woman.  But  her  mother 
lives  in  California,  and  she  got  to  worrying " 

"Mr.  Bradley  told  me,"  Nancy  said  sympa- 
thetically. 

"Homes,  and  home-makers,"  pursued  the 
agent,  "That's  what  we  need.  The  people 
we  have  here  are  all  quiet,  home-loving  folks, 
we  don't  want  show,  M'e  don't  want  display " 

"Well,  that's  our  idea!"  Bert  approved. 
And  he  rather  vexed  his  inconsistent  wife  by 
adding  hardily,  "  Remember  that  my  top  figure 
is  ten  thousand,  Rogers,  will  you?" 

"  Now,  you  wait  and  see  what  I  have  to  show 
you,  and  then  we'll  talk  turkey,"  the  other  man 
said  goodnaturcdly.  Anne,  sitting  on  her 
mother's  lap  beside  him,  gave  him  a  sudden 
smile  at  the  word  she  recognized. 

He  wheeled  the  car  smoothly  through  the 
great  gates  of  cement,  looped  with  iron  chains. 


no  UNDERTOW 

that  shut  off  the  village  herd  from  the  sacred 
ground.  Nancy  gave  Bert  an  ecstatic  glance; 
this  was  wonderful !  The  scattered  homes  were 
all  beautiful,  all  different.  Some  were  actual 
mansions,  with  wide-spreading  wings  and  half 
a  dozen  chimneys,  but  some  were  small  and 
homelike,  etched  with  the  stretching  fingers  of 
new  vines,  and  surrounded  by  park-like  gardens. 
Even  about  the  empty  plots  hedges  had  been 
planted,  and  underbrush  raked  away,  and  the 
effect  was  indescribably  trim  and  orderly, 
"like  England,"  said  Nancy,  who  had  never 
seen  England. 

As  they  slowly  circled  about,  they  caught 
glimpses  of  tennis  courts,  beyond  the  lawns  and 
trees,  glimpses  of  the  blue  water  of  the  bay, 
glimpses  of  white,  curving  driveways.  Here  a 
shining  motor-car  stood  purring,  there  men  in 
white  paused  with  arrested  rackets,  to  glance 
up  at  the  strangers  from  their  tennis.  Nancy 
looked  at  Bert  and  Bert  at  Nancy,  and  their 


UNDERTOW  III 

eyes  confessed  that  never  in  all  the  months  of 
hunting  had  they  seen  anything  like  this  ! 

Presently  they  came  to  the  end  of  the  road, 
and  to  a  richly  wooded  plot  that  formed  a  corner 
to  the  whole  tract.  A  garden  had  been  planted, 
but  it  was  neglected  now,  and  weeds  had 
pushed  up  here  and  there  between  the  bricks 
of  the  path.  The  house  was  low  and  spreading, 
under  great  locust  and  elm  trees,  a  shingled 
brown  house,  with  two  red  chimneys  and  cot- 
tage casements.  Over  one  hedge  the  Brad- 
leys  looked  down  at  the  pebbled  beach  that  be- 
longed to  all  the  residents  of  Marlborough 
Gardens. 

"Lansing  called  this  place  'Holly  Court,'" 
said  the  agent,  leading  them  to  the  front  porch 
door,  to  which  he  skillfully  fitted  a  key,  "That 
big  holly  bush  there  gave  it  its  name ;  the  bush 
is  probably  fifty  years  old.  Step  in,  Mrs. 
Bradley!" 

"But   notice   the   lovely   Dutch   door   first, 


112  UNDERTOW 

Bert,"  Nancy  said  eagerly.  "See,  Anne!  On 
a  hot  day  you  can  have  it  half  open  and  half 
shut,  isn't  that  cunning?" 

"The  house  is  full  of  charming  touches," 
Mr.  Rogers  said,  "And  you  may  always  trust  a 
woman's  eye  to  find  them,  Mr.  Bradley!  Wo- 
men are  natural  home-makers.  My  wife'U 
often  surprise  me;  'Why,  you've  not  got  half 
enough  closets,  Paul,'  she'll  say.  There's  one 
open  fire-place,  Mrs.  Bradley,  in  your  reception 
hall.  You  see  the  whole  plan  of  the  house  is 
informal.  You've  got  another  fire-place  in 
the  dining  room,  and  one  in  the  master  bedroom 
upstairs.  Here's  a  room  they  used  as  a  den — 
bookshelves,  and  so  on,  and  then  beyond  is  an- 
other tiled  porch — very  convenient  for  break- 
fast, or  tea.  You  see  Lansing  lived  here;  never 
has  been  rented,  or  anything  like  that.  He's 
selling  it  for  practically  what  it  cost  him!" 

"And  what's  that?"  asked  Bert,  smiling, 
but  not  quite  at  his  ease. 


UNDERTOW  113 

"Now,  you  wait  a  few  minutes,  Mr.  Business 
Man!"  Mr.  Rogers  said,  "What  you  think, 
and  what  I  think,  doesn't  count  much  beside 
what  this  Httle  lady  thinks.  She's  got  to  hve 
in  the  house,  and  if  she  Ukes  it,  why  I  guess  }'ou 
and  I  can  come  to  terms! " 

Nancy  threw  her  husband  a  glance  full  of  all 
amused  tolerance  at  this,  but  in  her  secret  soul 
she  rather  hked  it. 

They  went  upstairs,  where  there  were  hard- 
wood floors,  and  two  bathrooms,  and  mirrors 
in  the  bathroom  doors.  There  was  another 
bathroom  in  the  attic,  and  a  fourth  upstairs  in 
the  garage,  \\dth  two  small  bedrooms  in  each 
place.  They  must  expect  us  to  keep  four  maids, 
Nancy  hastily  computed. 

There  was  an  upstair  porch;  "  To  shake  a  rug, 
Mrs.  Bradley,  or  to  dry  your  hair,  or  for  this 
young  lady's  supper,"  said  the  delightful  ]\Ir. 
Rogers.  A  back  stairway  led  down  to  tempting 
culinary   regions;   a   sharp   exclamation   burst 


114  UNDERTOW 

from  Nancy  at  the  sight  of  the  great  ice  box, 
and  the  tiled  sinks. 

They  walked  about  the  plot,  a  large  one. 
At  the  back,  beside  the  garage,  they  could  look 
over  a  small  but  healthy  hedge  to  more  beach, 
clustered  with  unusual  shells  at  low  tide,  and 
the  straggling  outskirts  of  the  village.  From 
the  front,  they  looked  straight  down  a  wide 
tree-shaded  street,  that  lost  itself  in  a  peaceful 
vista  of  great  trees  and  vine-smothered  stone 
walls.  ''Holly  Court"  was  quiet,  it  was  natur- 
ally isolated,  it  seemed  to  Nancy  already  like 
home. 

Even  now,  however,  Mr.  Rogers  would  not 
talk  terms.  He  drove  them  about  again,  pass- 
ing other  houses,  all  happily  and  prosperously 
occupied.  He  told  Nancy  about  this  family 
and  that. 

"What'd  that  house  cost?"  Bert  would  de- 
mand. 

"Ah  well,  tJmt.     That  belongs  to  Ingram,  of 


UNDERTOW  115 

the  Ingram  Thorn  Coal  people,  you  know.  I 
suppose  Mr.  Ingram  has  invested  forty  or  fifty 
thousand  dollars  in  that  place,  in  one  way  and 
another.     The  tennis  court " 

And  so  on  and  on.  Presently  they  passed 
the  pretty,  unpretentious  club-house,  built 
close  to  the  water.  A  few  light  sails  were 
dipping  and  shaking  on  the  bay,  children  were 
gathered  in  a  little  knot  beside  an  upturned 
canoe,  on  the  shore.  Several  cars  were  parked 
on  the  drive  outside  the  club,  and  Nancy  felt 
decidedly  self-conscious  as  she  and  Bert  and 
the  children  walked  onto  the  awninged  porch 
that  was  the  tea  room. 

"Now  this  club  belongs  to  the  place,"  Mr. 
Rogers  said,  "You're  buying  here — and  I  don't 
mind  telling  you,  Mr.  Bradley,  that  I  want  you 
to  buy  here,"  he  broke  off  to  admit  persuasively 
— "  because  you  and  your  wife  are  the  sort  of  peo- 
ple we  need  here.  You  won't  find  anything 
anywhere  that  is  backed  by  the  same  interest, 


ii6  UNDERTOW 

you  won't.  However,  about  the  club.  Your 
buying  here  makes  you  a  member  of  this 
club " 

"Oh,  is  that  so  !^'  Nancy  exclaimed,  in  de- 
lighted surprise. 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  the  agent.  "The  dues  are 
merely  nominal — for  the  upkeep  of  the  place." 

"  Of  course! "  said  the  Bradley s. 

"Your  dues  entitle  you  to  all  the  privileges  of 
the  club — I  believe  the  bathhouses  are  a  httle 
extra,  but  everything  else  is  yours.  You  can 
bring  a  friend  here  to  tea,  give  a  card  party  here 
—there  are  dances  and  dinners  all  winter  long." 

"Mother,  are  we  coming  here  to  live?"  asked 
Junior,  over  his  chocolate. 

"I  don't  know,"  Nancy  answered,  feeling 
that  she  could  cry  with  nervousness.  She 
hardly  tasted  her  tea,  she  hardly  saw  the  men 
and  women  that  drifted  to  and  fro.  Her  heart 
was  choking  her  with  hope  and  fear,  and  she 
knew  that  Bert  was  nervous,  too. 


UNDERTOW  117 

At  last  Mr.  Rogers  returned  to  the  subject  of 
''Holly  Court,"  he  wanted  to  know  first  what 
they  thought  of  it.  Oh,  it  was  perfect,  said 
Nancy  and  Bert  together.  It  was  just  what 
they  wanted,  only 

Good,  the  agent  said.  He  went  on  to  say 
that  he  would  have  bought  the  house  himself, 
but  that  his  wife's  father  had  an  old  home  in 
Flushing,  and  while  the  old  gentleman  lived,  he 
wanted  them  there.  But  he  belonged  to  the 
Marlborough  Gardens  Club,  and  kept  a  boat 
there.  Now,  he  had  been  authorized  to  put  a 
special  price  on  this  place  of  Lansings,  and  he  was 
going  to  tell  them  frankly  why.  They  knew  as 
well  as  he  did  that  a  hundred  foot  square  plot, 
and  trees  like  that,  so  near  the  water,  cost 
money.  He  digressed  to  tell  them  just  how 
property  had  soared  in  price,  during  even  his 
own  time. 

"The  truth  is,"  he  said,  "that  Lansing, 
when  he  picked  that  site,  picked  it  for  trees,  and 


ii8  UNDERTOW 

quiet,  and  view — it  didn't  make  any  difference 
to  him  that  it  was  a  corner  site,  and  a  little  out 
of  the  main  traffic " 

"But  I  like  that  about  it!"  Nancy  said  eag- 
erly. "I  love  the  isolation  and  the  quiet. 
Nobody  will  bother  us  there " 

Bert  saw  that  she  was  already  moving  in. 
He  turned  a  rather  anxious  look  from  her  to 
the  agent. 


Chapter  Seventeen 

Twenty-five  thousand.  It  was  out  at  last, 
falling  like  a  stone  on  the  B  radley  s'  hearts.  Nancy 
could  hardly  keep  the  bitter  tears  from  her  eyes. 
Bert,  more  hardy,  barked  out  a  short  laugh. 

"  I'm  a  fool  to  let  it  go,"  said  the  agent  frankly; 
"  I'm  all  tied  up  with  other  things.  But  I  have 
no  hesitation  in  saying  this;  you  buy  it,  put 
the  garden  in  shape,  sit  tight  for  a  few  years, 
and  I'll  turn  it  over  for  you  for  forty  thousand, 
and  throw  in  my  commission!" 

"Nix!"  said  Bert,  honestly,  "Nothing  stir- 
ring! It's  too  big  a  proposition  for  us,  we 
couldn't  swing  it.  It  may  be  all  you  say,  but 
I'm  raising  a  family;  I  can't  go  into  twenty- 
five- thousand-dollar  deals " 

"I  don't  see  why "  began  the  agent,  un- 
ruffled. 

119 


I20  UNDERTOW 

"I  do!"  Bert  interrupted  him,  cheerfully. 

"Now  look  here,  Mr.  Bradley,"  said  Mr. 
Rogers,  patiently.  "Let's  get  the  real  dope  on 
this  thing.  You  want  a  home.  You  don't 
want  a  contract-made,  cheaply  constructed 
place  in  some  community  that  your  wife  and 
children  will  outgrow  before  they're  five  years 
older!  Now,  here  you  get  a  place  that  ever}' 
year  is  going  to  improve.  There  isn't  so  much 
of  this  Sound  shore  that  is  lying  around  waiting 
to  be  bought.     I  can  show  you " 

"Nothing  stirring,  I  tell  you!"  Bert  repeated, 
"Don't  hand  me  out  a  lot  of  dope  about  it.  I 
can  see  for  myself  what  it  is,  I  like  it,  the  Missus 
likes  it,  it's  a  dandy  proposition — for  a  million- 
aire. But  I  couldn't  touch  it  with  a  ten-foot 
pole!" 

Nancy's  lip  began  to  tremble.  She  was 
tired,  and  somehow — somehow  it  all  seemed 
such  a  waste,  if  they  weren't  to  have  it!  She 
busied  herself  untying  Anne's  napkin,  and  sent 


UNDERTOW  121 

the  three  children  on  a  gingerly  tour  of  inspec- 
tion down  to  the  beach. 

"Now  listen  a  moment!"  Mr.  Rogers  said. 
And  Nancy  added  gently,  almost  tremul- 
ously: 

"Do  just  listen  to  him,  Bert!" 

''You  pay  rent,  don't  you?"  began  Mr.  Rog- 
ers, ''Sixty,  you  said?  That's  seven  hundred 
and  twenty  dollars  a  year,  and  you  have  noth- 
ing to  show  for  it!  But  you'd  consider  seventy- 
five  or  a  hundred  cheap  enough  for  a  place 
like  this  wouldn't  you?" 

"  I  could  go — a  hundred,  yes,"  Bert  admitted, 
clearing  his  throat. 

"You  don't  have  to  go  any  hundred,"  the 
agent  said,  triumphantly.  "And  besides  that, 
isn't  it  to  your  advantage  to  live  in  your  own 
house,  and  have  a  home  that  you  can  be  proud 
of,  and  pay  everything  over  your  interest 
toward  your  mortgage?  We  have  people  here 
who  only  paid  two  or  three  thousand  down,  we 


122  UNDERTOW 

don't  push  you — that  isn't  our  idea.  If  you 
can't  meet  our  terms,  we'll  meet  yours.  You've 
got  your  nest-egg,  whatever  it  is " 

"As  a  matter  of  fact,  I've  got  ten  thousand 
to  start  with,"  Bert  said  slowly.  "But  that's 
all  I  have  got,  Rogers,"  he  added  firmly,  "And 
I  don't  propose " 

"You've  got  ten  thousand?"  asked  the  agent, 
with  a  kindly  smile.  And  immediately  his 
vehemence  gave  way  to  a  sort  of  benign  amuse- 
ment. "Why,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said  genially, 
"  What's  the  matter  with  you?  There's  a  mort- 
gage of  twelve  thousand  on  that  place  now;  you 
pay  your  ten,  and  6  per  cent,  on  the  rest — 
that's  something  a  little  more  than  sixty  dollars 
a  month — and  then  you  clear  off  your  loan,  or 
not,  as  suits  you!  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  that 
that's  good  business.  How  much  of  the  hold- 
ings of  Pearsall  and  Pearsall  are  clear  of  mort- 
gages! We  carry  'em  on  ever>^  inch  of  our 
land,  right  to  the  hilt  too.     If  you're  getting 


UNDERTOW  123 

the  equivalent  of  8  or  9  per  cent,  on  your 
money,  you  should  worry  about  the  man 
that  carries  the  loan.  You're  paying  6  per 
cent,  on  somebody's  twelve  thousand  now,  don't 
forget  that.     .    .     ." 


Chapter  Eighteen 

An  hour  later  they  went  to  see  Holly  Court 
again.  It  was  even  lovelier  than  ever  in  the 
sweet  spring  twilight.  Triangles  of  soft  light 
lay  upon  its  dusty,  yet  polished,  floors.  Bert 
said  that  the  place  certainly  needed  precious 
little  furniture;  Nancy  added  eagerly  that  one 
maid  could  do  all  the  work.  She  drew  a  happy 
sketch  of  Bert  and  his  friends,  arriving  hot  and 
weary  from  the  city,  on  summer  afternoons, 
going  down  to  the  bay  for  a  plunge,  and  coming 
back  to  find  supper  spread  on  the  red-tiled 
porch.  Bert  liked  the  idea  of  winter  fires,  with 
snow  and  darkness  outside  and  firelight  and 
warmth  within,  and  the  Bradleys'  friends  driv- 
ing up  jolly  and  cold  for  an  hour's  talk,  and  a 
cup  of  tea. 

"What  do  you  think,  dear?"  said  Bert  to  his 

124 


UNDERTOW  125 

wife,  very  low,  when  the  agent  had  consider- 
ately withdrawn  for  a  few  minutes,  and  they 
could  confer.  "Think!"  repeated  Nancy,  in 
delicate  reproach,  "Why,  I  suppose  there  is 
only  one  thing  to  think,  Bert ! " 

"You— you  like  it,  then?"  he  asked,  a  Httle 
nervously.  "Of  course,  it's  a  corking  place, 
and  all  that.  And,  as  Rogers  says,  with  what 
we  have  we  could  swing  it  easily.  You  see 
dear,  I  pay  ten  thousand,  and  take  up  twelve 
thousand  more  as  a  mortgage.  Even  then 
there's  three  thousand " 

Nancy  looked  despair. 

"But  that  could  be  covered  by  a  second 
mortgage,"  he  reminded  her,  quickly.  "That's 
a  very  ordinary  thing.  Everyone  does  that. 
Rogers  will  fix  it  up  for  me." 

"  Really,  Bert?  "  she  asked  doubtfully. 

"Oh,  certainly!  We  do  it  every  day,  in  the 
office.  However,  we've  got  to  think  this  thing 
over  seriously.     It's  twice — in  fact,  it's  more 


126  UNDERTOW 

than  twice  what  we  said.  There's  the  interest 
on  the  mortgage,  and  the  cost  of  the  move,  and 
my  commutation,  and  club  dues.  Then  of 
course,  Hving's  a  Httle  higher — there  are  no 
shops,  just  telephone  service,  the  shops  are  in 
the  village." 

"But  think  of  car  fares — and  how  simply  the 
children  can  dress"  Nancy  countered  quickly. 
"And  if  they  have  all  outdoors  to  play  in,  why, 
I  could  let  Anna  go,  and  just  send  out  the 
laundry!" 

"Well,   we  could  think  it  over "  Bert 

began  uncomfortably,  but  she  cut  him  short. 
They  had  been  standing  beside  one  of  the  win- 
dows, and  looking  out  at  the  soft  twilight 
under  the  trees;  now  Nancy  turned  to  her  hus- 
band a  pale,  tense  face,  and  rather  bright  eyes. 

"Albert,"  said  she,  quickly  and  breathlessly, 
"if  I  could  have  a  home  like  this  I'd  manage 
somehow!  You've  been  saying  we  could  have 
a  nurse  to  help  with  the  children — but  I'd  have 


UNDERTOW  127 

one  servant  all  my  life — I'd  do  my  own  work! 
To  have  our  friends  down  here — to  have  the 
children  grow   up   in   these   surroundings — to 
have  that  club  to  go  to !    We're  not  build- 
ing for  this  year,  or  next  year,  dear.     We've  got 
the  children's  future  to  think  of.     Mind,  I'm 
not  trying  to  influence  you,  Bert,"  said  Nancy, 
her  eager  tone  changing  suddenly  to  a  flat, 
repressed  voice,  "You  are  the  best  judge,  of 
course,  and  whatever  you  decide  will  be  right. 
But  I  merely  think  that  this  is  the  lovehest 
place  I  ever  saw  in  my  hfe,  and  exactly  what 
we've  been  hunting  for — only  far,  far  nicer! — 
and  that  if  we  can't  have  it  we'd  simply  better 
give  up  house-hunting,  because  it's  a  mere  waste 
of  time,  and  resign  ourselves  to  living  in  that 
detestable  city  for  ever  and  ever!    Of  course 
to  go  on  as  we  are  going  on,  means  no  friends 
and  no  real  home  life  for  the  children,  everyone 
admits  that  the  city  is  no  place  for  children,  and 
another  thing,  we'll  never  find  anything  like 


128  UNDERTOW 

this  again!    But  you  do  as  you  think  best. 
Only  I — that's  what  I  feel,  if  you  ask  me." 

And  having  talked  the  colour  into  her  cheeks, 
and  the  tears  into  her  eyes,  Nancy  turned  her 
back  upon  her  husband,  and  looked  out  into 
the  garden  again. 


Chapter  Nineteen 

That  same  week  Bert  brought  home  the  deeds, 

and  put  them  down  on  the  dinner  table  before 

her.     Nancy  usually  started  the  meal  promptly 

at  haK  past  six,  so  that  the  children's  first  raging 

appetites  might  be  partly  assuaged;  bread  was 

buttered,  milk  poured,  bibs  tied,  and  all  the 

excitement   of  commencing   the   meal   abated 

when  Bert  came  in.     It  was  far  from  being  the 

ideal  arrangement,  both  parents  admitted  that, 

but  like  a  great  many  other  abridgements  and 

changes  in  the  domestic   routine,   it  worked. 

The  rule  was  that  no  one  was  to  interrupt  Dad 

until  he  had  talked  a  little  to  Mother,  and  had 

his  soup,  and  this  worked  well,  too.     It  was 

while  the  soup-plates  were  going  out  that  Bert 

usually  lifted  his  daughter  bodily  into  his  arms, 

and  paid  some  little  attention  to  his  sons. 

129 


I30  UNDERTOW 

But  to-night  he  came  rushing  in  like  a  boy, 
and  the  instant  Nancy  saw  the  cause  of  his  ex- 
citement, she  was  up  from  her  place,  and  as 
wild  with  pleasure  as  a  girl.  The  deeds!  The 
actual  title  to  Holly  Court!  Then  it  was  all 
right?  It  was  all  right!  It  was  theirs.  Nancy 
showed  the  stamped  and  ruled  and  folded  paper 
to  the  children.  Oh,  she  had  been  so  much 
afraid  that  something  would  go  wrong.  She 
had  been  so  worried. 

Nothing  else  was  talked  of  that  night,  or  for 
many  days  and  nights.  Bert  said  that  they 
might  as  well  move  at  once,  no  use  paying  rent 
v/hen  you  owned  a  place,  and  he  and  Nancy 
entered  into  delightful  calculations  as  to  the 
placing  of  rugs  and  tables  and  chairs.  The 
things  might  come  out  of  storage  now — wouldn't 
the  banjo  clock  and  the  pineapple  bed  look 
wonderful  in  Holly  Court!  The  children 
rejoiced  in  the  parental  decision  to  go  and  see  it 
again  next  Sunday,  and  take  lunch  tiiis  time, 


UNDERTOW  131 

and  be  all  by  themselves,  and  really  get  to 
know  the  place. 

Curiously,  neither  Nancy  nor  Bert  could  dis- 
tinctly remember  anything  but  its  most  obvi- 
ous features,  now.  Just  how  the  stairs  came 
down  into  the  pantry,  and  how  the  doors  into 
the  bedrooms  opened,  they  were  unable  to  re- 
member. But  it  was  perfection,  they  remem- 
bered that. 

And  on  Sunday,  as  eager  as  the  children,  they 
went  down  to  Marlborough  Gardens  again,  to 
find  it  all  loveUer  and  better  than  their  memory  of 
it.  After  that  they  went  every  Sunday  until 
they  moved,  and  Holly  Court  seemed  to  grow 
better  and  better.  The  school  and  county  taxes 
were  already  paid,  and  the  receipts  given  him, 
and  there  was  no  rent!  Husband  and  wife, 
eyeing  the  dignified  disposition  of  the  furniture, 
the  white  crib  in  the  big  dressing  room  next  to 
their  own,  the  boys'  narrow  beds  separated  by 
strips  of  rug  and  neat  little  dressers,  the  spare 


132  UNDERTOW 

room  with  the  pineapple  bed,  and  the  blue 
scarfs  lettered  "Perugia — ^Perugia — ^Perugia" — 
looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  said  that  they 
had  done  well. 


Chapter  Twenty 

The  rest  of  that  summer,  and  the  fall,  were 
like  an  exquisite  dream.  All  the  Bradleys  were 
well,  and  happier  than  their  happiest  dream. 
Nancy  took  the  children  swimming  daily  on 
the  quiet,  deserted  beach  just  above  the  club 
grounds;  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays  they  all 
went  swimming.  She  made  her  own  bed  every 
morning,  and  the  children's  beds,  and  she  dusted 
the  beautiful  drawing  room,  and  set  the  upper 
half  of  the  Dutch  door  at  a  dozen  angles,  trying 
to  decide  which  was  the  prettiest.  She  and 
Anne  made  a  little  ceremony  of  filling  the  vases 
with  flowers,  and  the  boys  were  obliged  to  keep 
the  brick  paths  and  the  lawn  clear  of  toys. 

Nancy  made  a  quiet  boast  in  those  days  that 
they  let  the  neighbours  alone,  and  the  neigh- 
bours let  them  alone.     But  she  did  meet  one  or 


134  UNDERTOW 

two  of  the  Marlborough  Beach  women,  and 
liked  them.  And  three  times  during  the  sum- 
mer she  and  Bert  asked  city  friends  to  visit 
them;  times  of  pride  and  pleasure  for  the 
Bradleys.  Their  obvious  prosperity,  their  hand- 
some children,  and  the  ideal  home  could  not 
but  send  everyone  away  admiring.  It  was 
after  the  last  of  these  visits  that  Bert  told  his 
wife  that  they  ought  to  join  the  club. 

"I  don't  quite  understand  that — don't  we 
belong?"  Nancy  asked. 

"  The  Club  belongs  to  all  the  owners  of  Marl- 
borough Beach,"  Bert  explained.  "But — but 
I  feel  a  little  awkward  about  butting  in  there. 
However,  now  that  this  fellow  Biggerstaff,  that 
I  meet  so  much  in  the  train,  seems  to  be  so  well 
inclined,  suppose  you  and  I  dress  up  and  wan- 
der over  there  for  tea,  on  Sunday?  We'll  leave 
the  kids  here,  and  just  try  it." 

Nancy  somewhat  reluctantly  consented  to  the 
plan,  observing  that  she  didn't  want  to  do  the 


UNDERTOW  135 

wrong  thing.  But  it  proved  the  right  thing, 
for  not  only  did  the  friendly  Biggerstaff  come 
over  to  the  Bradleys  tea-table,  but  he  brought 
pretty  Mrs.  Biggerstaff,  and  left  her  with  the 
new-comers  while  he  went  off  to  find  other 
men  and  women  to  introduce.  The  Bradleys 
met  the  Roses,  and  the  Seward  Smiths  and  gray- 
haired  Mrs.  Underhill,  with  her  son,  and  his 
motherless  boys — the  hour  was  confused,  but 
heart-warming.  When  the  Bradleys  went  home 
in  the  Roses'  car,  they  felt  that  they  had  been 
honestly  welcomed  to  Marlborough  Gardens. 
Nancy  was  so  excited  that  she  did  not  want 
any  supper;  she  sat  with  Anne  in  her  lap  chat- 
tering about  the  social  possibiHties  opening  be- 
fore her. 

''Rose  tells  me  that  the  club  dues  are  fifty 
a  year,"  Bert  said,  "and  some  of  the  bath- 
houses are  five,  and  the  others  twenty  each. 
The  twenties  are  dandies — twelve  feet  square, 
with  gratings,  and  wooden  hooks,  and  lots  of 


136  UNDERTOW 

space.  However,  we  don't  have  to  decide  that 
until  next  year.  Of  course  you  sign  for  teas 
and  all  that  but  the  cards  and  card- tables  and 
so  on,  are  supplied  by  the  club,  and  the  tennis 
courts  and  lockers  and  so  on,  are  absolutely 
free." 

"  Isn't  that  wonderful?  "  Nancy  said. 

"  Well,  Rose  said  they  weren't  trying  to  make 
anything  out  of  it — it's  a  family  club,  and  it's 
here  for  the  general  convenience  of  the  Gardens. 
Now,  for  instance,  if  a  fellow  from  outside  joins, 
he  pays  one  hundred  and  fifty  initiation  fee, 
and  seventy-five  a  year." 

"H'm!"  said  Nancy,  in  satisfaction.  The 
Marlborough  Gardens  Yacht  Club  was  not 
for  the  masses.  "All  we  need  for  the  children 
is  a  five-dollar  bath  house,"  she  added  presently, 
"For  we're  so  near  that  it's  really  easier  for 
you  and  me  to  walk  over  in  our  bathing 
suits." 

"  Oh,  sure!"  Bert  agreed  easily.     "Unless,  of 


UNDERTOW  137 

course,"  he  added  after  a  pause,  "all  the  other 
fellows  do  something  else." 

"Oh  of  course!"  agreed  Nancy,  little  dream- 
ing that  she  and  her  husband  were  in  these 
words  voicing  the  new  creed  that  was  to  be 
theirs. 


Chapter  Twenty-one 

Up  to  this  time  it  might  have  been  said  that 
the  Bradley s  had  grasped  their  destiny,  and 
controlled  it  with  a  high  hand.  Now  their 
destiny  grasped  them,  and  they  became  its  help- 
less prey.  Neither  Nancy  nor  Bert  was  at  all 
conscious  of  this;  in  deciding  to  do  just  what  all 
the  other  persons  at  the  Gardens  did,  they 
merely  felt  that  they  were  accepted,  that  they 
were  a  part  at  last  of  this  wholly  fascinating 
and  desirable  group. 

At  first  it  meant  only  that  they  went  to  the 
fortnightly  dinner  at  the  club,  and  danced,  on 
alternate  Saturday  nights.  Nancy  danced  ex- 
quisitely, even  after  her  ten  busy  and  tiring 
years,  and  Bert  was  always  proud  of  her  when 
he  saw  her  dancing.     The  dances  broke  up  very 

late;  the  Bradleys  were  reproached  for  going 

138 


UNDERTOW  139 

home  at  two  o'clock.  They  both  usually  felt  a 
little  tired  and  jaded  the  next  day,  and  not  quite 
so  ready  to  tramp  with  the  children,  or  superin- 
tend brush  fires  or  snow-shovelling  as  had  once 
been  their  happy  fashion. 

But  they  were  fresh  and  eager  at  four  o'clock 
when  Marlborough  Gardens  came  in  for  tea  by 
the  fire,  or  when  the  telephone  summoned  them 
to  some  other  fireside  for  tea.  It  rarely  was  tea ; 
Nancy  wondered  that  even  the  women  did  not 
care  for  tea.  They  sometimes  drank  it,  and 
crunched  cinnamon  toast,  after  card  parties, 
but  on  Saturdays  and  Sundays,  when  men  were 
in  the  group,  stronger  drinks  were  the  fashion, 
cocktails  and  highballs,  or  a  bowl  of  punch. 
The  Bradleys  were  charming  people,  Marl- 
borough Gardens  decided  warm-heartedly;  they 
had  watched  the  pretty  new-comer  and  her 
splashing,  sturdy  children,  all  through  the  first 
quiet  summer — the  children  indeed,  were  all  good 
friends  already.     The  grown-ups  followed  suit. 


I40  UNDERTOW 

Motor-cars  began  to  come  down  the  short 
lane  that  ended  at  the  gate  of  Holly  Court, 
and  joyous  and  chattering  men  and  women  to 
come  in  to  tea.  Nancy  loved  this,  and  to  see  a 
group  of  men  standing  about  his  blazing  logs 
filled  Bert's  heart  with  pride.  It  was  rather 
demoralizing  in  a  domestic  sense,  dinner  was 
delayed,  and  their  bedtime  consequently  de- 
layed, and  Dora,  the  cook  was  disgruntled  at 
seven  o'clock,  when  it  was  still  impossible  to  set 
the  dinner  table.  But  Nancy,  rather  than  dis- 
turb her  guests,  got  a  second  servant,  an  enor- 
mous Irishwoman  named  Agnes,  who  carried 
the  children  off  quietly  for  a  supper  in  the 
kitchen,  when  tea-time  callers  came,  and  man- 
aged them  far  more  easily  than  their  mother 
could. 

Before  the  second  summer  came  Nancy  had 
come  to  be  ashamed  of  some  of  her  economies 
that  first  summer.  Taking  the  children  in- 
formally across  the  back  of  the  empty  Somers' 


UNDERTOW  141 

place,  and  letting  them  bathe  on  the  deserted 
beach  next  to  the  club,  wearing  faded  cottons, 
and  picknicking  as  near  as  the  Half  Mile  Light, 
seemed  rather  shabby  performances.  These 
things  had  seemed  luxury  a  year  ago,  but  she 
wondered  now  how  she  could  have  done  them. 
Sometimes  she  reminded  Bert  of  the  much  older 
times,  of  the  oyster  party  and  the  hat-pins,  or 
the  terrible  summer  at  The  Old  Hill  House, 
but  she  never  spoke  of  them  above  her 
breath. 

On  the  contrary,  she  had  to  watch  carefully 
not  to  inadvertently  admit  to  Marlborough 
Gardens  that  the  fmancial  standing  of  the 
Bradleys  was  not  quite  all  the  heart  might  have 
desired.  Nancy  had  no  particular  sense  of 
shame  in  the  matter,  she  would  have  really 
enjoyed  discussing  finances  with  these  new 
friends.  But  money,  as  money,  was  never 
mentioned.  It  flowed  in  a  mysterious,  and 
apparently  inexhaustible  stream  through  the 


142  UNDERTOW 

hands  of  these  young  men  and  women,  and  while 
many  of  them  knew  acute  anxiety  concerning  it, 
it  was  not  the  correct  thing  to  speak  of  it. 
They  had  various  reasons  for  doing,  or  not  do- 
ing, various  things.  But  money  never  influ- 
enced them.  Oliver  Rose  kept  a  boat,  kept  a 
car  and  gave  up  his  boat,  took  to  golf  and  said 
he  might  sell  his  big  car — but  he  seemed  to  be 
wasting,  rather  than  saving,  money,  by  these 
casual  transfers.  Mrs.  Seward  Smith  said  that 
her  husband  wanted  her  to  go  into  town  for  the 
winter,  but  that  it  was  a  bore,  and  she  hated 
big  hotels.  Mrs.  Biggerstaff  suggested  lazily 
that  they  all  wait  until  February  and  then  go  to 
Bermuda,  and  although  they  did  not  go,  Nancy 
never  heard  anyone  say  that  the  holiday  was 
too  expensive.  Everybody  always  had  gowns 
and  maids  and  dinners  enough;  there  was  no 
particular  display.  Old  Mrs.  Underbill  indeed 
dressed  with  the  quaint  simplicity  of  a  Quaker, 
and  even  gay  Httle  Mrs.  Fielding,  who  had  been 


UNDERTOW  143 

divorced,  and  was  a  daughter  of  the  railroad 
king,  Lowell  Lang,  said  that  she  hated  Newport 
and  Easthampton  because  the  women  dressed 
so  much.  She  dressed  more  beautifully  than 
any  other  women  at  Marlborough  Gardens, 
but  was  quite  unostentatious  and  informal. 

Nancy's  cheeks  burned  when  she  remembered 
something  she  had  innocently  said  to  Mrs. 
Fielding,  in  the  early  days  of  their  acquaintance. 
The  fare  to  the  city  was  seventy  cents,  and 
Nancy  commented  with  a  sort  of  laughing  pro- 
test upon  the  quickness  with  which  her  mileage 
books  were  exhausted,  between  the  boys'  dentist 
appointments,  shopping  trips,  the  trips  twice 
a  month  that  helped  to  keep  Agnes  and  Dora 
happy,  and  the  occasional  dinner  and  theatre 
party  she  herself  had  with  Bert. 

"Besides  that,"  she  smiled  ruefully,  "There's 
the  cab  fare  to  the  station,  that  wretched  Kil- 
roy  charges  fifty  cents  each  way,  even  for  Anne, 
and  double  after  ten  o'clock  at  night,  so  that  it 


144  UNDERTOW 

almost  pays  Mr.  Bradley  and  myself  to  stay  in 
town!" 

"  I  never  go  in  the  train,  I  don't  believe  I've 
ever  made  the  trip  that  way,"  said  Mrs.  Fielding 
pleasantly.  And  immediately  she  added, 
"Thorn  has  nothing  to  do,  and  it  saves  me  any 
amount  of  fatigue,  having  him  follow  me  about ! " 

"  But  what  do  you  do  with  the  car,  if  you  stay 
in  for  the  theatre?"  Nancy  asked,  a  day  or 
two  later,  after  she  and  Bert  had  made  some  cal- 
culations as  to  the  expense  of  this. 

"Oh,  Thorn  leaves  it  in  some  garage,  there 
are  lots  of  them.  And  he  gets  his  dinner  some- 
where, and  goes  to  a  show  himself,  I  suppose!" 
Mrs.  Fielding  said.  Nancy  made  no  answer, 
but  when  she  and  Bert  were  next  held  on  a 
Fifth  Avenue  crossing,  she  spoke  of  it  again. 
Hundreds  of  men  and  women  younger  than 
Nancy  and  Bert  were  sitting  in  that  river  of 
motor-cars — how  easily  for  granted  they  seemed 
to  feel  them! 


UNDERTOW  I4S 

"Just  as  I  am  beginning  to  take  my  lovely 
husband  and  children,  and  my  beautiful  home 
for  granted,"  Nancy  said  sensibly,  giving  her- 
self a  Httle  shake.  "We  have  too  much  now, 
and  here  I  am  wondering  what  it  would  be  like 
to  have  a  motor-car! " 

And  the  next  day  she  spoke  carelessly  at  the 
club  of  the  smaller  bathhouses. 

"This  is  a  wonderful  bath  house  of  yours, 
Mrs.  Ingram;  but  aren't  there  smaller  ones?" 

Mrs.  Ingram,  a  distinguished-looking,  plain 
woman  of  forty,  with  the  pleasantest  smile  in 
the  world,  turned  quickly  from  the  big  dressing 
room  she  had  just  engaged,  and  was  inspecting. 

"Yes,  there  are,  Mrs.  Bradley,  they're  in  that 
little  green  row,  right  against  the  wall  of  the 
garages.  We  had  to  have  them,  you  know,  for 
the  children,  and  a  bachelor  or  two,  who  couldn't 
use  a  big  one,  and  then  of  course  the  maids  love 
to  go  in,  in  the  mornings — my  boys  used  one 
until  last  year,  preferred  it! " 


146  UNDERTOW 

And  she  smiled  at  the  two  tall  boys  in 
crumpled  linen,  who  were  testing  the  pegs  and 
investigating  the  advantages  of  the  room. 
Nancy  had  meant  to  be  firm  about  that  bath- 
house, but  she  did  not  feel  quite  equal  to  it  at 
this  moment.  She  allowed  her  fancy  to  play 
for  one  delightful  minute  with  the  thought  of  a 
big  dressing  room;  the  onr  right  next  to  Mrs. 
Ingram's,  with  the  green  awning! 

"But  twenty  dollars  a  season  is  an  outrageous 
rent  for  a  bathhouse!"  she  said  to  Bert  that 
night. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  he  said  comfortably, 
"We've  got  the  money.  It  amounts  only  to 
about  five  dollars  a  month,  after  all.  I  vote 
for  the  big  one." 

"Well,  of  course  it'll  be  just  the  most  glori- 
ous luxury  that  ever  was,^^  Nancy  agreed  hap- 
pily. She  loved  the  water,  and  Bert  enjoyed 
nothing  so  much  in  the  world  as  an  hour's  swim- 
ming with  the  children,  but  before  that  second 


UNDERTOW  147 

summer  was  over  they  could  not  but  see  that 
their  enthusiasm  was  unshared  by  the  majority 
of  their  neighbours.  The  children  all  went  in 
daily,  at  the  Stillwater,  and  the  few  young 
girls  Marlborough  Gardens  boasted  also  went 
in,  on  Sundays,  in  marvellous  costumes.  At 
these  times  there  was  much  picturesque  group- 
ing on  the  pier,  and  the  float,  and  much  low 
conversation  between  isolated  couples,  while 
flying  soft  hair  was  drying.  Also  the  men  of 
all  ages  went  in,  for  perhaps  ten  minutes  brisk 
overhand  exercise,  and  came  gasping  out  for 
showers  and  rough  towelling. 

But  Nancy's  women  friends  did  not  care  for 
sea-bathing,  and  she  came  to  feel  that  there 
was  something  just  a  trifle  provincial  in  the 
open  joyousness  with  which  the  five  Bradleys 
gathered  for  their  Sunday  riot.  If  there  was  a 
morning  tide  they  were  comparatively  unno- 
ticed, although  there  were  always  a  few  boats 
going  out,  and  few  men  on  the  tennis  courts. 


148  UNDERTOW 

But  when  the  tide  was  high  in  the  afternoon,  even 
Bert  admitted  that  it  was  "darned  conspicu- 
ous" for  the  family  to  file  across  the  vision  of  the 
women  who  were  playing  bridge  on  the  porch, 
and  for  Anne  to  shriek  over  her  water-wings  and 
the  boys  to  yell,  as  they  inevitably  did  yell, 
"Gee— it's  cold!" 

^  Their  real  reason  for  more  or  less  abandoning 
the  habit  was  that  there  was  so  much  else  to  do. 
Bert  played  golf,  Nancy  learned  to  score  tennis 
as  she  watched  it,  and  to  avoid  applause  for 
errors,  and  to  play  excellent  bridge  for  quarter- 
cent  points.  She  went  to  two  or  three  luncheons 
sometimes  in  a  single  week;  and  cold  Sunday 
lunches,  with  much  passing  of  beer  and  shar- 
ing of  plates,  were  popular  at  Marlborough 
Gardens.  Holly  Court  was  especially  suited 
to  this  sort  of  hospitality,  and  it  was  an  easy 
sort  to  extend.  Nancy  sent  the  children  off 
with  Agnes,  bribed  her  cook,  bribed  the  laun- 
dress to  wash  all  the  table  linen  twice  weekly, 


UNDERTOW  149 

and  on  special  occasions  employed  a  large, 
efficient  Swedish  woman  from  the  village  for  a 
day,  or  a  week-end.  "  I'll  get  Christiana,"  was 
one  of  the  phrases  that  fell  frequently  from 
Nancy's  Ups. 


Chapter  Twenty-two 

Miraculously,  finances  stood  the  strain.  Bert 
was  doing  well,  and  sometimes  made  several 
good  commissions  together — not  as  large  as  the 
famous  commission,  but  still  important. 
Neither  he  nor  Nancy  kept  accounts  any  more, 
bills  were  paid  as  they  came  in,  and  money  Vv'as 
put  into  the  bank  as  it  came  in.  Nancy  had  a 
check  book,  but  she  rarely  used  it.  Sometimes, 
when  Mrs.  Biggerstaff  or  Mrs.  Underbill  asked 
her  to  join  a  Girls'  Home  Society  or  demanded  a 
prize  for  the  Charity  Bridge,  Nancy  liked  to 
show  herself  ready  to  help,  but  for  other  pur- 
poses she  needed  no  money.  She  ordered  all 
household  goods  by  telephone,  signed  "chits" 
at  the  club,  kept  her  bridge  winnings  loose  in  a 
small   enamelled  box,   ready   for  losing,   and, 

when  she  went  into  town,  charged  on  her  ac- 

150 


UNDERTOW  151 

counts  right  and  left,  and  met  Bert  for  lunch- 
eon. So  that,  when  they  really  had  their  first 
serious  talk  about  money,  Nancy  was  able 
to  say  with  a  quite  plausible  air  of  innocence, 
"Well,  Bert,  I  haven't  asked  you  for  one  cent 
since  the  day  I  needed  mileage.  I  don't  waste 
money !     I  never  did. ' ' 

"Well,  we've  got  it!"  Bert  said  uncomfort- 
ably, on  the  day  of  this  talk.  He  had  vaguely 
hoped,  as  the  month  went  by,  that  it  was  going 
to  show  him  well  ahead  financially.  However, 
if  things  "broke  even,"  he  might  well  congratu- 
late himself.  Certainly  they  were  having  a 
glorious  time,  there  was  no  denying  that. 

"Do  you  recognize  us,  Bert?"  Nancy  some- 
times asked  him  exultingly,  as  she  tucked  her- 
self joyously  into  somebody's  big  tonneau,  or 
snatched  open  a  bureau  drawer  to  find  fresh 
prettiness  for  some  unexpected  outing.  "Do 
you  remember  our  wanting  to  join  the  Silver 
River  Country  Club!     That  little  club!" 


152  UNDERTOW 

"Gosh,  it's  queer!"  Bert  would  agree,  grin- 
ning. And  late  in  the  second  summer  he  said, 
"  If  I  put  the  Buller  deal  over,  I  think  I'll  get  a 
car!" 

"  Well,  honestly,  I  think  we  ought  to  have  a 
car,"  Nancy  said  seriously,  after  a  flashing  look 
of  delight,  "It  isn't  an  extravagance  at  all, 
Bert,  if  you  really  figure  it  out.  The  man  does 
errands  for  you,  saves  you  I  don't  know  how 
much  cab  fare,  takes  care  of  the  place,  and  Mary 
Ingram's  man  has  a  garbage  incinerator — and 
saves  that  expense !  Then,  it's  one  of  the  things 
you  truly  ought  to  have,  down  here.  You 
have  friends  down  Saturday,  you  play  golf,  you 
play  bridge  after  dinner — well  and  good.  Sun- 
day morning  we  swim,  and  come  home  to  lunch, 
and  then  what?  You  can't  ask  other  friends  in 
to  lunch  and  then  propose  that  they  take  us  in 
their  cars  down  the  island  somewhere?  And 
yet  that's  what  they  do;  and  I  assure  you  it  em- 
barrasses me,  over  and  over  again." 


UNDERTOW  153 

"Oh,  we'll  have  to  have  a  car — I'm  glad  you 
see  it,"  said  Bert. 

The  Buller  deal  being  duly  completed,  they 
got  their  car.  The  picturesque  garage  was  no 
longer  useless.  A  silent,  wizened  little  French- 
man and  his  wife  took  possession  of  the  big 
room  over  the  kitchen,  Pierre  to  manage  the 
garden  and  the  car,  Pauline  to  cook — she  was  a 
marvellous  cook.  Nancy  kept  Agnes,  and  got 
a  little  maid  besides,  who  was  to  make  herself 
generally  useful  in  dining  room  and  bedrooms. 

The  new  arrangement  worked  like  a  charm. 
There  was  no  woman  in  the  Gardens  who  did 
not  envy  the  Bradleys  their  cook,  and  Nancy 
felt  the  possession  of  Pauline  a  real  feather  in 
her  cap.  Pauline  exulted  in  emergencies,  and 
Nancy  and  Bert  experienced  a  fearful  dehght 
when  they  put  her  to  the  test,  and  sat  bewildered 
at  their  own  table,  while  the  dainty  courses 
followed  one  another  from  some  mysterious 
source  to  which  Pauline  alone  held  the  clue. 


154  UNDERTOW 

The  children  were  somewhat  in  the  back- 
ground now,  but  they  seemed  well  cared  for, 
and  contented  enough  when  they  made  their 
occasional  appearances  before  their  mother's 
friends.  There  was  a  fine  private  school  in  the 
Gardens,  and  although  the  fees  for  the  two  boys, 
with  music  lessons  twice  weekly,  came  to  thirty 
dollars  a  month,  Nancy  paid  it  without  self- 
reproach.  The  alternative  was  to  send  them 
into  the  village  pubhc  school,  which  was  at- 
tended by  not  one  single  child  from  the  Gar- 
dens. The  Ingram  boys  went  away  to  boarding 
school  at  Pomfret,  Dorothy  Rose  boarded  in 
New  York,  and  the  Underbill  boys  had  a  tutor, 
who  also  had  charge  of  one  or  two  other  boys 
preparing  for  college  preparatory  schools.  While 
the  boys  were  away  Anne  drifted  about  with  her 
mother,  or  more  often  with  Agnes,  or  was  al- 
lowed to  go  to  play  with  Cynthia  Biggerstaff 
or  Harriett  Fielding. 


Chapter  Twenty-three 

Life  spun  on.  The  Bradleys  felt  that  they 
had  never  really  lived  before.  They  rushed, 
laughed,  played  cards,  dressed,  danced,  and  sat 
at  dehcious  meals  from  morning  until  night. 
There  were  so  many  delightful  plans  continually 
waiting,  that  sometimes  it  was  hard  to  choose 
between  them.  The  Fieldings  wanted  them  to 
dine,  to  meet  friends  from  Chicago— but  that 
was  the  same  night  that  the  Roses  and  Joe 
Underhill  were  going  in  to  sec  the  new  musical 
comedy 

"This  is  Bert "  a  voice  at  Nancy's  tele- 
phone would  say,  in  the  middle  of  a  sweet 
October  morning,  "Nance  .  .  .  Tom  In- 
gram picked  me  up,  and  brought  me  in  .  .  . 
and  he  was  saying  that  Mrs.  Ingram  has  to 

come  into  town  this  afternoon     .     .     .     and 

15s 


156  UNDERTOW 

that,  since  you  do,  why  don't  you  have  Pierre 
bring  you  both  in  in  the  car,  and  meet  us  after 
your  shopping,  and  have  a  httle  dinner  some- 
where and  take  in  a  show?  You  can  let  Pierre 
go  back,  do  you  see?  .  .  .  and  the  In- 
grams  will  bring  us  back  in  their  car.  Now, 
can  you  get  hold  of  Mrs.  Ingram,  and  fix  it  up, 
and  telephone  me  later?     .     .     ." 

Nancy's  first  thought,  so  strong  is  habit, 
might  be  that  she  had  just  secured  ducks  for 
dinner,  Bert's  favourite  dinner,  and  that  she 
had  promised  Anne  to  take  her  with  her  broth- 
ers to  see  the  big  cows  and  prize  sheep  at  the 
Mineola  Fair.  But  that  could  wait,  and  if 
Anne  and  the  boys  were  promised  a  little  party, 
and  ice  cream — and  if  Pauline  had  no  dinner  to 
get  she  would  readily  make  the  ice  cream 

"  Ingram  is  here  ...  he  wants  to  know 
what  you  think.  .  .  ."  Bert's  impatient 
voice  might  say.  And  Nancy  felt  that  she  had 
no  choice  but  to  respond : 


UNDERTOW  157 

"That  wiU  be  lovely,  Bert!  I'll  get  hold  of 
Mrs.  Ingram  right  away.  And  I'll  positively 
telephone  you  in  fifteen  minutes." 

The  rest  of  the  day  would  be  rush  and  excite- 
ment, Nancy  felt  that  she  never  would  grow 
used  to  the  delicious  idleness  of  it  all.  During 
the  week  there  were  evenings  that  might  have 
been  as  quiet  as  the  old  evenings,  nothing  hap- 
pened, and  if  anybody  came  in  it  was  only  the 
Fieldings,  or  Mrs.  Underbill  and  her  son,  for  a 
game  of  bridge.  But  domestic  peace  is  a 
habit,  after  all,  and  the  Bradley s  had  lost  the 
habit.  Nancy  was  restless,  beside  her  own 
hearth,  even  wliile  she  spangled  a  gown  for  the 
Hallowe'en  ball,  and  discussed  with  Bert  the 
details  of  the  paper  chase  at  the  club,  and  the 
hunt  breakfast  to  follow.  She  would  ask  Bert 
what  the  others  were  doing  to-night,  and  would 
spring  up  full  of  eager  anticipation  when  the 
inevitable  rap  of  the  brass  knocker  came. 

Saturdays  and  Sundays  were  almost  always  a 


iS8  UNDERTOW 

time  of  complete  absorption.  Everyone  had 
company  to  entertain,  everyone  had  plans. 
Nancy  and  Bert  would  come  gaily  into  their 
home,  on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  flushed  from  a 
luncheon  party,  and  would  entertain  the  noisy 
crowd  in  the  dining  room.  After  that  the  chug- 
ging of  motors  began  again  on  the  drive,  and 
the  watching  children  saw  their  parents  depart 
in  a  trail  of  gay  laughter. 


Chapter  Twenty-Jour 

There  was  a  brief  halt  when  a  fourth  child, 
Priscilla,  w^as  born.  It  was  in  the  quiet  days 
that  followed  Priscilla's  birth,  that  the  Bradleys 
began  to  look  certain  unpleasant  facts  squarely 
in  the  face.  They  were  running  steadily  deeper 
and  deeper  into  debt.  There  were  no  sensa- 
tional expenditures,  but  there  were  odd  bills 
left  unpaid,  from  midsummer,  from  early  fall, 
from  Christmas. 

"And  I  don't  see  where  we  can  cut  down," 
said  Bert,  gloomily. 

It  was  dusk  of  a  bitter  winter  day.  Nancy 
was  l>ang  on  a  wide  couch  beside  her  bedroom 
fire,  Priscilla  snuffled  in  a  bassinet  near  by.  In 
a  lighted  room  adjoining,  a  nurse  was  washing 
bottles.  The  coming  of  the  second  daughter 
had  somehow  brought  husband  and  wife  nearer 

159 


i6o  UNDERTOW 

together  than  they  had  been  for  a  long  time, 
even  now  Nancy  had  been  wrapped  in  peace- 
ful thought;  this  was  like  the  old  times,  when 
she  had  been  tired  and  weak,  and  Bert  had  sat 
and  talked  about  things,  beside  her!  She 
brought  her  mind  resolutely  to  bear  upon  all  the 
distasteful  suggestions  contained  in  his  involun- 
tary remark. 

"What  specially  worries  you,  Bert?"  she 
asked. 

He  turned  to  her  in  quick  gratitude  for  her 
sympathy. 

"Nothing  special,  dear.  We  just  get  in 
deeper  and  deeper,  that's  all.  The  table,  and 
the  servants,  and  the  car,  and  your  bill  at 
Landmann's — nothing  stays  within  any  limit 
any  more!  I  don't  know  where  we  stand,  half 
the  time.  It's  not  that!"  He  pulled  at  his 
pipe  for  a  moment  in  silence.  "It's  not  that!" 
he  burst  out,  "  but  I  don't  think  we  get  much  out 
of  it!" 


UNDERTOW  i6r 

Nancy  glanced  at  him  quickly,  and  then  stared 
into  the  fire  for  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  she 
said  in  a  low  tone : 

"I  don't  believe  we  do! " 

"  I  like  Biggerstaff — and  I  like  Rose  and  Field- 
ing well  enough!"  Bert  added  presently,  after 
profound  thought,  "but  I  don't  like  'em  all  day 
and  all  night!  I  don't  like  tiiis  business  of 
framing  something  up  every  Sunday — a  lot 
of  fur  coats  and  robes,  and  all  of  us  getting  out 
half-frozen  to  eat  dinners  we  don't  want,  all 
over  the  place " 

"And  hours  and  hours  of  making  talk  with 
women  I  really  don't  care  about,  for  me!" 
Nancy  said.  "I  love  Mary  Ingram,"  she  said 
presently,  "and  the  Biggerstaffs.  But  that's 
about  all." 

"Exactly,"  said  her  husband  grimly.  "But 
it's  not  the  Ingrams  nor  the  Biggerstaffs  who 
made  our  club  bill  sixty  dollars  this  month  "  he 
added. 


i62  UNDERTOW 

"Bert!    It  wasn't!" 

"Oh,  yes  it  was.  Everyone  of  us  had  to  take 
four  tickets  to  the  dance,  you  know,  and  we  had 
two  bottles  of  wine  New  Year's  Eve;  it  all 
counts  up.  But  part  of  it  was  for  Atherton, 
that  cousin  of  Collins,  he  asked  me  to  sign  for 
him  because  he  had  more  than  the  regulation 
number  of  guests! " 

"But  Bert,  he'll  surely  pay  you?" 

"Maybe  he  will,  maybe  he  won't;  it's  just 
one  of  those  things  you  can't  mention." 

"I   could  let  Hannah  go,"   mused  Nancy, 

"but  in  the  rush  last  summer  I  let  her  help 

Pauline — waiting  on  table.     Now  PauUne  won't 

set  her  foot  out  of  the  kitchen  for  love  or 

money." 
"And  Pauline  is  wished  on  us  as  long  as  we 

keep  Pierre,"  Bert  said,  "No,  you'll  need  'em 

all  now,  with  the  baby  to  run.     But  we'll  try 

to  pull  in  a  little  where  we  can.     My  bills  for 

the  car  are  pretty  heavy,   and  we've  got  a 


UNDERTOW  163 

Tiffany  bill  for  the  Fielding  kid's  present,  and 
the  prizes  for  the  card  party.  That  school  of 
the  boys — it's  worth  all  this,  is  it?  " 

Nancy  did  not  answer;  her  brow  was  clouded 
with  thought.  Doctor,  school,  maids,  car, 
table — it  was  all  legitimate  expense.  Where 
might  it  be  cut?  For  a  few  minutes  they  sat  in 
silence,  thinking.  Then  Bert  sighed,  shrugged 
his  shoulders,  and  walked  over  to  look  down 
at  Priscilla. 

''Hello,  Goo-goo!"  said  he.  "You're  having  a 
grand  little  time  with  your  blanket,  aren't  you? 

"I'll  truly  take  the  whole  thing  in  hand, 
Nancy  said,  noticing  with  a  little  pang  that  dear 
old  Bert  was  looking  older,  and  grayer,  than  he 
had  a  few  years  ago.  "When  I  come  down- 
stairs, self-denial  week  will  set  in!" 

Her  tone  brought  him  to  her  side ;  he  stooped 
to  kiss  the  smiling  face  between  the  thick  braids. 

"You  always  stand  by  me,  Nance!"  he  said 
gratefully. 


j> 


j> 


Chapter  Twenty-five 

There  was  no  stopping  half  way,  however. 
The  current  had  caught  the  Bradleys  and  it 
carried  them  on.  There  was  no  expense  that 
could  be  lessened  without  weakening  the  whole 
structure.  Nancy  grew  sick  of  bills,  bills  that 
came  in  the  mail,  that  were  delivered,  and  that 
piled  up  on  her  desk.  She  honestly  racked  her 
brain  to  discover  the  honourable  solution;  there 
was  no  solution.  Even  while  she  pondered, 
Priscilla  in  her  arms,  the  machinery  that  she 
and  Bert  had  so  eagerly  constructed  went  on 
of  its  own  power. 

"The  cleaner's  man,  Hannah?"  Nancy  would 
ask,  sighing.  "You'll  have  to  give  hun  all 
those  things;  the  boys'  white  coats  are  abso- 
lutely no  good  to  them  until  they're  cleaned, 

and  Mr.  Bradley  really  needs  the  vests.    And 

164 


UNDERTOW  165 

put  in  my  blue  waist,  and  all  those  gloves,  and 
the  lace  waist,  too — no  use  letting  it  wait! " 

"The  things  to-day  came  collect,  Mrs.  Brad- 
ley," Hannah  might  respectfully  remind  her. 

"Oh,  of  course!  And  how  much  was  it? — 
eleven-forty?  Heavens!  What  made  it  so  big?" 

"  Two  suits,  and  your  velvet  dress,  and  one  of 
Anne's  dresses.  And  the  man  came  for  your 
furs  this  morning,  and  the  awning  place  tele- 
phoned that  they  would  send  a  man  out  to 
measure  the  porches.  Mr.  Bradley  sent  a  man 
back  from  the  station  to  ask  you  about  plants ; 
but  you  were  asleep,  and  I  didn't  like  to  wake 
you!" 

It  was  always  something.  Just  as  Nancy 
thought  that  the  household  expenses  had  been 
put  behind  her  for  a  few  days  at  least,  a  fresh 
crop  sprang  up.  A  room  must  be  papered,  the 
spare  room  needed  curtains,  Bert's  racket  was 
broken,  the  children  clamoured  for  new  bathing- 
suits.     Nancy  knew  two  moods  in  the  matter. 


i66  UNDERTOW 

There  was  the  mood  in  which  she  simply  re- 
fused to  spend  money,  and  talked  darkly  to  the 
children  of  changes,  and  a  life  devoid  of  all 
this  ridiculous  waste;  and  there  was  the  mood 
in  which  she  told  herself  desperately  that  they 
would  get  through  somehow,  everyone  else 
did,  one  had  to  live,  after  all.  In  the  latter 
mood  she  ordered  new  glasses  and  new  towels, 
and  white  shoes  for  all  four  children,  and  bottles 
of  maraschino  cherries,  and  tins  of  caviar  and 
the  latest  novel,  and  four  veils  at  a  time. 

"Mrs.  Albert  Bradley,  Marlborough  Gar- 
dens— ^by  self,"  Nancy  said  smoothly,  swimming 
through  the  great  city  shops.  Sometimes  she 
was  a  little  scared  when  the  boxes  and  boxes 
and  boxes  came  home,  but  after  all,  they  really 
needed  the  things,  she  told  herself. 

But  needed  or  not,  she  and  Bert  began  to 
quarrel  about  money,  and  to  resent  each  other's 
extravagances.  The  sense  of  an  underlying 
financial   distress  permeated   everything   they 


UNDERTOW  167 

did;  Nancy's  face  developed  new  expressions, 
she  had  a  sharp  look  for  the  moment  in  which 
Bert  told  her  that  he  was  going  to  take  their 
boys  and  the  Underhill  boys  to  the  Hippodrome, 
or  that  he  was  going  to  play  poker  again. 
Bert  rarely  commented  upon  her  own  reckless- 
ness, further  than  to  patiently  ejaculate, 
"Lord!" 

"Why  do  you  say  that,  Bert? "  she  might  ask^ 
with  violent  self-control. 

"Nothing,  my  dear,  nothing!"  Bert  would 
return  to  his  newspaper,  or  his  razor.  "I  was 
just  thinking.     No  matter! " 

Nancy  would  stand,  eyeing  him  sulphurously. 

"But  just  what  do  you  mean,  Bert?"  she 
would  pursue.  "Do  you  mean  that  you  don't 
think  I  should  have  gotten  the  suit?  I  can't 
wear  that  fur-trimmed  suit  into  the  summer, 
you  know.  The  hat  was  eighteen  dollars — 
do  you  think  there's  another  woman  in  the 
Gardens  who  pays  no  more  than  that?    Lots 


i68  UNDERTOW 

of  men  haven't  four  lovely  children  and  a  home 
to  support,  they  haven't  wives  who  make  all 
their  friends  welcome,  as  I  do.  Perhaps  you 
feel  that  they  are  better  o2?  If  you  don't 
— I  don't  see  what  you  have  to  complain 
about.  .  .  ."  And  she  would  take  her  own 
way  of  punishing  him  for  his  air  of  detachment 
and  superiority.  Bert  was  not  blameless,  him- 
self. It  was  all  very  well  for  Bert  to  talk  of 
economy  and  self-denial,  but  Bert  himself 
paid  twelve  dollars  a  pair  for  his  golf-shoes,  and 
was  the  first  man  at  the  club  to  order  champagne 
at  the  dance  suppers. 

Smouldering  with  indignation,  Nancy  would 
shrug  off  her  misgivings.  Why  should  she  hesi- 
tate over  furs  and  new  hangings  for  the  study 
and  the  present  for  the  Appletons,  when  Bert 
was  so  reckless?  It  would  all  be  paid  for,  some- 
how. 

"And  why  should  I  worry,"  Nancy  asked 
herself,  "and  try  to  save  a  few  cents  here  and 


UNDERTOW  169 

there,  when  Bert  is  simply  flinging  money  right 
and  left?" 

But  for  all  her  ready  argument,  Nancy  was 
sometimes  wretchedly  unhappy.  She  had  many 
a  bitter  cry  about  it  all — tears  interrupted  by 
the  honking  of  motors  in  the  road,  and  ended 
with  a  dash  of  powder,  a  cold  towel  pressed  to 
hot  eyes,  and  the  cheerful  fiction  of  a  headache. 
It  was  all  very  well  to  laugh  and  chat  over  the 
tea-cups,  to  accept  compliments  upon  her 
lovely  home  and  her  lovely  children,  but  she 
knew  herself  a  hypocrite  even  while  she  did 
so.  She  could  not  say  what  was  wrong,  but 
something  was  wrong. 

Even  the  children  seemed  changed  to  her  in 
these  days.  The  boys  were  nice-looking,  grin- 
ning little  lads,  in  their  linen  suits  and  white 
canvas  hats,  but  somehow  they  did  not  seem 
to  belong  to  her  any  more.  Her  own  boys, 
whose  high  chairs  had  stood  in  her  kitchen  a 
few  years  ago,  while  she  cut  cookies  for  them 


I70  UNDERTOW 

and  their  father,  seemed  to  have  no  confidences 
to  unfold,  and  no  hopes  to  share  with  their 
mother,  now.  Sometimes  they  quite  obviously 
avoided  the  society  of  the  person  who  must 
eternally  send  them  to  wash  their  hands,  and 
exclaim  at  the  condition  of  their  knees.  Some- 
times they  whined  and  teased  to  go  with  her 
in  the  motor,  and  had  to  be  sternl}-  asked  by 
their  father  if  they  wished  to  be  punished. 
Pierre  took  them  about  with  him  on  week  days, 
and  they  played  with  the  other  boys  of  the 
Gardens,  eating  too  much  and  staying  up  too 
late,  but  rarely  in  the  way. 

Anne  was  a  shy,  inarticulate  little  blonde 
now,  thin,  sensitive,  and  plain.  Her  hair  was 
straight,  and  she  had  lost  her  baby  curls. 
Nancy  did  what  she  could  for  her,  with  severe 
little  smocks  of  blue  and  lemon  colour,  and 
duly  started  her  to  school  with  the  boys.  But 
Anne  cried  herself  into  being  sick,  at  school, 
and  it  was  decided  to  keep  her  at  home  for 


UNDERTOW  171 

a  while.  So  Anne  followed  Agnes  about,  Agnes 
and  the  radiant  Priscilla,  who  was  giggling 
her  way  through  a  dimpled,  rose-pink  babyhood ; 
the  best  of  the  four,  and  the  easiest  to  manage. 
Priscilla  chewed  her  blue  ribbons  peacefully, 
through  all  domestic  ups  and  do\vns,  and  never 
cried  when  the  grown-ups  went  away,  and  left 
her  with  Agnes. 


Chapter  Twenty-six 

Worse  than  any  real  or  fancied  change  in 
the  children,  however,  was  the  unmistakable 
change  in  Bert.  Heartsick,  Nancy  saw  it. 
It  was  not  that  he  failed  as  a  husband,  Bert 
would  never  do  that;  but  the  bloom  seemed 
gone  from  their  relationship,  and  Nancy  felt 
sometimes  that  he  was  almost  a  stranger.  He 
never  looked  at  her  any  more,  really  looked  at 
her,  in  the  old  way.  He  hardly  listened  to  her, 
when  she  tried  to  engage  him  in  casual  talk;  to 
hold  him  she  must  speak  of  the  immediate 
event— the  message  Joe  had  left  for  him,  the 
plan  for  to-morrow's  luncheon.  He  was  popu- 
lar with  the  men,  and  his  wife  would  hear  him 
chucklingly  completing  arrangements  with  them 
for   this   affair   or   that,   even  while  she  was 

frantically  indicating,  with  everything  short  of 

172 


UNDERTOW  173 

actual  speech,  that  she  did  not  want  to  go  to 
Little  Mateo's  to  dinner;  she  did  not  want  to 
be  put  into  the  Fieldings'  car,  while  he  went 
off  with  OUver  Rose  in  his  roadster. 

"Are  you  crazy!"  she  would  exclaim,  in  a 
fierce  undertone  when  they  were  upstairs  dress- 
ing, "Didn't  you  see  that  I  don't  want  to  go 
to-night?  I  can't  understand  you  sometimes. 
Bert,  you'll  fall  in  with  a  plan  that  I  abso- 
lutely  " 

*'  Now,  look  here,  Nancy,  look  here !  Weren't 
you  and  Mrs.  Rose  the  two  that  cooked  this 
whole  scheme  up  last  night " 

"She  suggested  it,  and  I  merely  said  that  I 
thought  sometime  it  would  be  fun " 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  plan  a  thing  and  then  go 
back  on  it " 

This  led  nowhere.  In  silence  the  Bradleys 
would  finish  their  dressing,  in  silence  descend 
to  the  joyous  uproar  of  the  cars.  But  Nancy 
despaired  of  the  possibility  of  ever  impressing 


174  UNDERTOW 

Bert,  through  a  dignified  silence,  with  a  sense 
of  her  displeasure.  How  could  she  possibly 
be  silent  under  these  circumstances?  What 
was  the  use,  anyway?  Bert  was  tired,  irri- 
table, he  had  not  meant  to  annoy  her.  It  was 
just  that  they  both  were  nervously  tense;  pres- 
ently they  would  find  some  way  of  lessening  the 
strain. 

But — she  began  to  wish  that  he  would  not 
drink  quite  so  much.  The  other  men  did,  of 
course,  but  then  they  were  more  used  to  it  than 
Bert.  Perhaps  this  constant  stimulation  ac- 
counted for  Bert's  nervous  irritability,  for  the 
indefinable  hardening  and  estranging.  Nancy 
was  not  prudish,  she  had  seen  wine  on  her 
father's  table  since  she  was  a  baby,  she  enjoyed 
it  herself,  now  and  then.  But  to  have  cock- 
tails served  even  at  the  women's  luncheons;  to 
have  every  host,  whatever  the  meal,  preface  it 
with  the  shshing  of  chopped  ice  and  the  clink 
of  tiny  glasses,  worried  her.     Bert  even  mixed  a 


UNDERTOW  175 

cocktail  when  he  and  she  dined  alone  now,  and 
she  knew  that  when  he  had  had  two  or  three,  he 
would  want  something  more,  would  eagerly  ask 
her  if  she  would  like  to  "stir  up  something"  for 
the  evening — how  about  a  run  over  to  the 
Ocean  House,  with  the  Fiel dings?  And  wher- 
ever they  went,  there  was  more  drinking. 

"Let's  make  a  rule,"  she  proposed  one  day. 
"Let's  confine  our  hospitality  to  persons  we 
really  and  truly  like.  Nobody  shall  come  here 
without  express  invitation!" 

"You're  on!"  Bert  agreed  enthusiastically. 

Ten  minutes  later  it  chanced  that  two  motor- 
loads  of  persons  they  both  thoroughly  disliked 
poured  into  Holly  Court,  and  Nancy  rushed  out 
to  scramble  some  sandwiches  together  in  the 
frigid  atmosphere  of  the  kitchen,  where  Pauline 
and  Hannah  were  sourly  attacking  the  ruins  of  a 
company  lunch. 

"It's  maddening,"  she  said  to  Bert,  later, 
when  the  intruders  had  honked  away  into  the 


176  UNDERTOW 

late  summer  afternoon,  "But  what  can  we  do? 
Such  a  sweet  day,  and  we  have  that  noisy 
crowd  to  lunch,  and  then  this! " 

"Well,  we're  having  a  lot  of  fun  out  of  it, 
anyway!"  Bert  said,  half-heartedly.  Nancy 
did  not  answer. 


Chapter  Twenty-seven 

But  Nancy  began  to  ask  herself  seriously;  was 
it  such  fun?  When  house  and  maids  and  chil- 
dren, garden,  car,  table-linen  and  clothes  had 
all  been  brought  to  the  standard  of  Marlbor- 
ough Gardens,  was  the  result  worth  while? 
Who  enjoyed  them,  who  praised  them?  It  was 
all  taken  for  granted  here;  the  other  women  were 
too  deep  in  their  own  problems  to  note  more 
than  the  satisfactory  fact;  the  Bradleys  kept 
the  social  law. 

It  was  a  terrible  law.  It  meant  that  Nancy 
must  spend  every  waking  moment  of  her  life 
in  thought  about  constantly  changing  trifles — 
about  the  strip  of  embroidered  linen  that  cur- 
tained the  door,  about  the  spoons  that  were 
placed  on  the  table,  about  a  hundred  details  of 

her  dress,  about  every  towel  and  plate,  every 

177 


178  UNDERTOW 

stocking  and  hat-pin  she  possessed.  She  must 
watch  the  other  women,  and  see  how  salad- 
dressing  must  be  served,  and  what  was  the 
correct  disposition  of  grapefruit.  And  more 
than  that  she  must  be  reasonably  conversant 
with  the  books  and  poetry  of  the  day,  the  plays 
and  the  political  atmosphere.  She  must  al- 
ways have  the  right  clothing  to  wear,  and  be 
ready  to  change  her  plans  at  any  time.  She 
must  be  ready  to  run  gaily  down  to  the  door  at 
the  most  casual  interruption;  leaving  Agnes  to 
fmish  Priscilla's  bath  just  because  Seward 
Smith  felt  in  a  mood  to  come  and  discuss  the 
fairness  of  golf  handicaps  with  his  pretty, 
sensible  neighbour. 

She  did  not  realize  that  she  had  been  happier 
years  ago,  when  every  step  Junior  and  Ned  and 
Anne  took  was  with  Mother's  hand  for  guide, 
but  she  often  found  herself  thinking  of  those 
days  with  a  sort  of  wistful  pain  at  her  heart. 
Life  had  had  a  flavour  then  that  it  somehow 


UNDERTOW  179 

lacked  now.  She  had  been  tired,  she  had  been 
too  busy.  But  what  richness  the  memories 
had;  memories  of  three  small  heads  about  a 
kitchen  table,  memories  of  limp  little  socks  and 
crumpled  Uttle  garments  left  like  dropped 
petals  in  Mother's  lap,  at  the  end  of  the  long 
day. 

"Are  we  the  same  people?"  mused  Nancy. 
"Have  I  really  my  car  and  my  man;  is  it  the 
same  old  Bert  whose  buckskin  pumps  and 
whose  silk  handkerchiefs  are  imitated  by  all 
these  rich  men?  No  wonder  we've  lost  our 
bearings  a  little,  we've  gone  ahead — if  it  is 
ahead — too  fast!" 

They  were  getting  from  Hfe,  she  mused,  just 
what  everyone  wanted  to  get  from  life;  home, 
friends,  children,  amusement.  They  lived  near 
the  greatest  city,  they  could  have  anything  that 
art  and  science  provided,  for  the  mere  buying, 
no  king  could  sleep  in  a  softer  bed,  or  eat  more 
delicious    fare.     "Wlien    Mary    Ingram    asked 


i8o  UNDERTOW 

Nancy  to  go  to  the  opera  matin6e  with  her, 
Nancy  met  women  whose  names  had  been  only 
a  joke  to  her,  a  few  years  ago.  She  found  them 
rather  like  other  persons,  simple,  friendly,  in- 
terested in  their  nurseries  and  their  gardens  and 
anxious  to  reach  their  own  firesides  for  tea. 
When  Nancy  and  Bert  went  out  with  the  Field- 
ings  they  had  a  different  experience;  they  had 
dinners  that  were  works  of  art,  the  finest  box  in 
the  theatre,  and  wines  that  came  cobwebbed  and 
dusty  to  the  table. 

So  that  there  was  no  height  left  to  scale; 
"if  we  could  only  afford  it,"  mused  Nancy. 
Belle  Fielding  could  afford  it,  of  course;  her 
trouble  was  that  the  Fielding  name  was  perhaps 
a  trifle  too  surely  connected  with  fabulous 
sums  of  money.  And  Mary  Ingram  could 
afford  anything,  despite  her  simple  clothes  and 
her  fancy  for  long  tramps  and  quiet  evenings 
with  her  delicate  husband  and  two  big  boys. 
Nancy    sometimes    wondered    that    with    the 


UNDERTOW  i8i 

Ingram  income  anyone  could  be  satisfied  with 
Marlborough  Gardens,  but  after  all,  what  was 
there  better  in  all  the  world?  Europe? — but 
that  meant  hotel  cooking  for  the  man.  Nancy 
visuahzed  an  apartment  in  a  big  city  hotel, 
a  bungalow  in  California,  a  villa  in  Italy,  and 
came  back  to  the  Gardens.  Nothing  was  finer 
than  this. 

"If  we  could  only  appreciate  it!"  she  said 
again,  sighing.  "And  if  we  need  only  see  the 
people  we  like — and  if  time  didn't  fly  so!" 
And  of  course  if  there  were  more  money!  She 
reflected  that  if  she  might  go  back  a  few  years,  to 
the  time  of  their  arrival  at  the  Gardens,  she  might 
build  far  more  wisely  for  her  own  happiness  and 
Bert's.  They  had  been  drawn  in,  they  had 
followed  the  crowd,  it  was  impossible  to  with- 
draw now.  Nancy  knew  that  something  was 
troubling  Bert  in  these  days,  she  guessed  it  to 
be  the  one  real  cause  for  worry.  She  began  al- 
most to  hope  that  he  felt  financial  trouble  near, 


i82  UNDERTOW 

it  would  be  a  relief  to  fling  aside,  the  whole  pre- 
tence to  say  openly  and  boldly,  "we  must  econ- 
omize," and  to  go  back  to  honest,  simple  living 
again.     They  could  rent  Holly  Court 

Fired  with  enthusiasm,  she  looked  for  her 
check  book,  and  for  Bert's,  and  with  the  coun- 
terfoils before  her  made  some  long  calculations. 
The  result  horrified  her.  She  and  Bert  be 
tween  them  had  spent  ten  thousand  dollars 
in  twelve  months.  Nearly  ten  times  the  sum 
upon  which  they  had  been  so  happy,  years  ago! 
The  loans  upon  the  property  still  stood,  twelve 
thousand  dollars,  and  the  additional  three, 
they  had  never  touched  it.  There  was  a  bank 
balance,  of  course,  but  as  Nancy  courageously 
opened  and  read  bill  after  bill,  and  flattened  the 
whole  into  orderly  pile  under  a  paper  weight, 
she  saw  their  total  far  exceeded  the  money  on 
hand  to  meet  them.  They  could  wait  of  course, 
but  meanwhile  debts  were  not  standing  still. 

It  was  a  quiet  August  afternoon;  the  house 


UNDERTOW  183 

was  still,  but  from  the  shady  lawn  on  the  water 
side,  Nancy  could  hear  Priscilla  crooning  like  a 
dove,  and  hear  Agnes's  low  voice,  and  Anne's 
high-pitched  little  treble.  For  a  long  while 
she  sat  staring  into  space,  her  brows  knit. 
Ten  thousand  dollars — when  they  could  have 
lived  luxuriously  for  five !  The  figures  actually 
frightened  her.  Why,  they  should  have  cleared 
off  half  the  mortgage  now,  they  might  easily 
have  cleared  it  all.  And  if  anything  happened 
to  Bert,  what  of  herself  and  the  four  children 
left  absolutely  penniless,  with  a  mortgaged 
home? 

"This  is  wicked,"  Nancy  decided  soberly. 
"It  isn't  conscientious.  We  both  must  be 
going  crazy,  to  go  on  as  we  do.  I  am  going  to 
have  a  long  talk  with  Bert  to-night.  This 
can't  go  on!" 

"Interrupting?"  smiled  pretty  Mrs.  Seward 
Smith,  from  the  Dutch  doorway. 

Nancy  jumped  up,  full  of  hospitality. 


i84  UNDERTOW 

"  Oh,  come  in,  Mrs.  Smith.  I  was  just  going 
over  my  accounts " 

"You  are  the  cleverest  creature;  fancy  doing 
that  with  everything  else  you  do!"  the  caller 
said,  dropping  into  a  chair.  "I'm  only  here 
for  one  second — and  I'm  bringing  two  messages 
from  my  husband.  The  first  is,  that  he  has 
your  tickets  for  the  tennis  tournament  with 
ours,  we'll  all  be  together;  so  tell  Mr.  Bradley 
that  he  mustn't  get  them.  And  then,  what  did 
you  decide  about  the  hospital?  You  see  Mr. 
Ingram  promised  fifty  dollars  if  we  could  find 
nine  other  men  to  promise  that,  and  make  it 
an  even  thousand  from  the  Gardens,  and  Mr. 
Bradley  said  that  even  if  he  only  gave  twenty- 
five  himself  he  would  find  someone  else  to  give 
the  other  twenty-five.  Tell  him  there's  no 
hurry,  but  Ward  wants  to  know  sometime  be- 
fore the  first.  I  didn't  know  whether  he  re- 
membered it  or  not." 

"I'll  remind  him!"  Nancy  promised  brightly. 


UNDERTOW  i8s 

She  walked  with  her  guest  to  the  car,  and  stood 
in  the  bright  warm  clear  sunlight  smihng  good- 
byes. "So  many  thanks  for  the  tickets — and 
I'll  tell  Bert  about  the  hospital  to-night!" 

But  when  the  car  was  gone  she  went  slowly 
back.  She  eyed  the  cool  porqhway  sombrely, 
the  opened  casement  windows,  the  blazing 
geraniums  in  their  boxes,  Pauline  was  hanging 
checked  glass  towels  on  the  line,  Nancy  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  big  bare  arms,  over  the  brick  wall 
that  shielded  the  kitchen  yard.  It  was  a  lovely 
home,  it  was  a  most  successful  establishment; 
surely,  surely,  things  would  improve,  it  would 
never  be  necessary  to  go  away  from  Holly 
Court. 


Chapter  Twenty-eight 

Bert  was  very  late,  that  night.  The  children 
were  all  asleep,  and  Nancy  had  dined,  and  was 
dreaming  over  her  black  coffee  when,  at  nine 
o'clock,  he  came  in.  He  was  not  hungry — just 
hot  and  tired — he  wanted  something  cool.  He 
lad  lunched  late,  in  town,  with  both  the  Pear- 
sails,  had  not  left  the  table  until  four  o'clock. 
And  he  had  news  for  her.  He  was  leaving 
Pearsall  and  Pearsall. 

Nancy  looked  at  him  stupefied.  What  did 
he  mean?  Panic  seized  her,  and  under  her 
panic  something  rose  and  exulted.  Perhaps  it 
was  trouble — perhaps  Bert  needed  his  wife 
again ! 

"  I'm  going  in  for  myself,"  said  Bert.  "  Now, 
don't  look  so  scared;  it  may  be  slow  for  a  while, 
but  there's  big  money  in  it,  for  me.     I'm  going 

1 86 


UNDERTOW  187 

to  be  Albert  Bradley,  Real  Estate.  You  see, 
I've  been  advising  Fred  to  handle  this  new 
proposition,  down  the  Island,  but  he's  young, 
and  he's  rich,  and  his  father's  an  old  man.  Fred 
won't  keep  up  the  business  when  old  Buck 
retires.  He  didn't  want  to  handle  it  and  they 
both  asked  me  why  I  didn't  go  into  it  for  my- 
self. There's  a  pot  of  money  in  it,  Nance,  if 
I  can  swing  it.  However,  I  never  thought  of  it 
until  Biggerstaff  asked  me  if  I  knew  about  any- 
thing of  that  kind — he's  got  some  money  to 
put  in,  and  so  has  Ingram.  This  was  last  week. 
Well,  I  went  to  see.     .     ,     ." 

Nancy  listened,  frightened  and  thrilled.  Fear 
was  uppermost;  before  this  she  had  seen  some- 
thing of  daring  business  ventures  in  her  southern 
childhood.  But  on  the  other  hand,  there  was 
the  possibility  of  "big  money,"  and  they  needed 
money!  They  needed,  as  Bert  said,  to  get  out 
of  the  ranks,  to  push  in  before  the  next  fellow 
pushed  in.     She  had  a  vision  of  herself  telling 


i88  UNDERTOW 

the  other  women  of  the  Gardens  that  Mr. 
Bradley  had  gone  into  business  for  himself; 
that  the  Pearsalls  were  going  to  throw  anything 
they  could  his  way.  It  sounded  dignified — 
Bert  with  a  letter  head,  and  an  office  in  Broad- 
way! 

She  was  lost  in  a  complacent  dream  when 
Bert's  voice  awakened  her. 

"  So  that,  if  Buck  does  lend  it,  that  means  the 
interest  on  fifty  thousand.     .     .     ." 

"Fifty  thousand?"  Nancy  repeated,  alarmed. 

"Well,  perhaps  not  quite  that.  I've  got 
to  figure  it  as  closely  as  I  can.  .  .  ."  Nancy's 
colour  had  faded  a  trifle. 

"Bert,  you  would  be  mad  to  get  into  it,  or 
into  anything,  as  deep  as  that! "  she  said  breath- 
lessly. Bert,  dashed  in  the  midst  of  his  con- 
fident calculations,  turned  something  hke  a 
snarl  upon  her, 

"Well,  what  am  I  going  to  do?"  he  asked 
angrily.     "It's  all  very  well  for  you  to  sit  there 


UNDERTOW  189 

and  advise  me  to  keep  out  of  it,  but  what  am  I 
going  to  do?  It's  a  chance,  and  I  believe  in 
taking  it.  I  know  my  market,  I  know  how 
these  things  are  handled.  If  I  can  swing  this  in 
the  next  three  or  four  years,  I  can  swing  other 
things.  It  means  that  we  step  right  into  the 
rich  class " 

"But   if  you   fail ?"   Nancy   suggested, 

impressed  in  spite  of  herself. 

"You  keep  your  end  of  things  going,"  he 
urged  her,  in  a  sombre  voice,  "and  I'll  take  care 
of  mine!" 

"  I'll  try,  Bert,  I'll  do  the  best  I  can."  With 
something  of  her  old,  comradely  spirit,  she  laid 
her  hand  on  his  arm.  "I'll  let  Hannah  go — 
at  least  I  will  as  soon  as  the  Berrys'  visit  is 
over.  And  what  about  our  going  to  the  Se- 
walls',  Bert,  that's  going  to  be  an  exi>ensive 
trip.     Shall  I  get  out  of  that?  " 

"No,"  Bert  decided  thoughtfully.  "I  may 
want    to   get    Sewall    into    this    thing.     W^e'll 


I90  UNDERTOW 

have  to  go  there — I  wish  to  the  deuce  we  could 
get  rid  of  Pauline  and  Pierre;  but  I  don't  see 
myself  taking  care  of  the  car,  somehow! " 

"Everyone  envies  us  PauHne,"  Nancy  ob- 
served. And  seeing  that  he  was  still  scowUng 
thoughtfully  at  his  black-coffee  cup,  she  touched 
his  hand  affectionately  again,  and  set  herself 
seriously  to  soothe  him.  "But  we'll  find  ways 
of  economizing,  dear.  I'll  watch  the  bills,  and 
I'll  scold  Pauline  again  about  the  butter  and 
eggs  and  meat  that  she  wastes.  You  must 
remember  that  you  have  a  big  family,  Bert. 
You're  raising  four  healthy  children,  and  you 
have  a  car,  and  a  man,  and  a  beautiful  home,  and 
a  delightful  group  of  friends,  and  two  or  three 
fine  clubs " 

But  for  once  Bert  was  not  easily  quieted.  He 
put  his  head  in  his  hands  and  gave  a  sort  of 


groan. 


"Don't  tell  me  what  I've  got — I  know  it  all! 
Lord,  I  he  awake  nights  wondering  what  would 


UNDERTOW  191 

happen  to  the  crowd  of  you — However! "  And 
dismissing  the  topic,  he  glanced  at  his  watch. 
"I  think  I'll  turn  in  before  anybody  comes  in, 
Nance.  I  need  sleep."  With  a  long  tired 
yawn,  he  started  for  the  big  square  stairway; 
paused  at  her  desk.     "  What're  all  those?  " 

"  Bills,  Bert.  I'm  sorry  to  have  you  see  them 
now.  But  we  ought  to  pay  some  of  them — 
I've  been  going  over  things,  this  afternoon. 
Now,  especially  if  you're  going  to  make  a  fresh 
start,  we  ought  to  straighten  things  out.  We 
ought  to  plan  that  we  can  spend  so  much 
money,  and  stick  to  that." 

Bert  flipped  the  pile  with  a  careless  finger. 

"We  never  will!"  he  said  morosely.  "We 
never  Jtave^ 

"Oh,  Bert — we  used  to  clear  everything  off 
on  the  first  of  the  month,  and  then  celebrate, 
don't  you  remember?" 

He  jerked  his  head  impatiently. 

"What's  the  use  of  harking  back  to  that? 


192  UNDERTOW 

That  was  years  ago,  and  things  are  different 
now.  We'll  pull  out  of  it,  I'm  not  worried. 
Only,  where  we  can,  I  think  we  ought  to  cut 
down." 

"Dentist "  Nancy  said  musingly.     She 

had  come  over  to  stand  beside  him,  and  now 
glanced  at  one  of  the  topmost  bills.  "You 
have  to  have  a  dentist,"  she  argued. 

"Well,  I'm  too  tired  to  go  over  'em  now!" 
Bert  said,  unsympathetically.  "Leave  'em  there 
— I'll  take  them  all  up  in  a  day  or  two! " 

"  But  I  was  thinking,"  Nancy  said,  following 
him  upstairs,  "That  while  you  are  about  it, 
borrowing  money  for  the  new  venture,  you 
know — why  not  borrow  an  extra  thousand  or 
two,  and  clear  this  all  up,  and  then  we  can 
really  start  fresh.  You  see  interest  on  a  thou- 
sand is  only  fifty  dollars  a  year,  and  that " 

"That's  nonsense!"  Bert  answered,  harshly, 
"  Borrowing  money  for  a  business  is  one  thing, 
and  borrowing  money   to  pay   for  household 


UNDERTOW  193 

bills  is  another!  I  don't  propose  to  shame  my- 
seK  before  men  Hke  Biggerstaff  and  Ingram  by 
telling  them  that  I  can't  pay  my  butcher's  bill! " 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  take  that  tone  with 
me,"  Nancy  said,  sharply,  "I  merely  meant  to 
make  a  suggestion  that  might  be  helpful " 

A  bitter  quarrel  followed,  the  bitterest  they 
had  ever  known.  Bert  left  the  house  without 
speaking  to  his  wife  the  next  morning,  and 
Nancy  looked  out  into  the  still  August  sunshine 
with  a  heavy  weight  on  her  heart,  as,  scowling, 
he  wheeled  the  car  under  the  maples,  and  swept 
away.  She  went  about  all  day  long  silent  and 
brooding,  answering  the  children  vaguely,  and 
with  occasional  deep  sighs.  She  told  Mrs. 
Smith  that  Mr.  Bradley  would  let  her  know 
about  the  hospital  money  right  away,  and 
planned  a  day  at  the  tennis  tournament,  and  a 
dinner  after  it,  between  periods  of  actual  pain. 
It  was  all  so  stupid — it  was  all  so  sad  and  hope- 
less and  unnecessary! 


194  UNDERTOW 

Bert  had  not  meant  what  he  said  to  her; 
she  had  not  meant  what  she  said  to  him,  and 
they  both  knew  it.  But  an  ugly  silence  lasted 
between  them  for  several  days.  They  spoke  to 
each  other  civilly,  before  other  people;  they 
dressed  and  went  about  with  an  outward 
semblance  of  pleasantness,  and  at  home  they 
spoke  to  the  servants  and  the  children. 


Chapter  Tivejity-nine 

No  formal  reconciliation  ended  this  time  of 
discomfort.  Guests  came  to  the  house,  and 
Bert  addressed  his  wife  with  some  faint  spon- 
taneity, and  Nancy  eagerly  answered  him. 
They  never  alluded  to  the  quarrel;  it  might 
have  been  better  if  they  had  argued  and  cried 
and  laughed  away  the  pain,  in  the  old  way. 

But  they  needed  each  other  less  now,  and 
life  was  too  full  to  be  checked  by  a  few  moments 
of  misunderstanding.  Nancy  learned  to  keep 
absolutely  silent  when  Bert  was  launched  upon 
one  of  his  favourite  tirades  against  her  extrav- 
agance; perhaps  the  most  maddening  attitude 
she  could  have  assumed.  She  would  listen 
politely,  her  eyes  wandering,  her  thoughts  quite 
as  obviously  astray. 

"But  a  lot  you  care!"   Bert  would  fmish 

195 


196  UNDERTOW 

angrily,  "You  go  on  and  on,  it's  charge  and 
charge  and  charge — somebody II  pay  for  it  all! 
You've  got  to  do  as  the  other  women  do,  no 
matter  how  crazy  it  is!  I  ask  you — I  ask  you 
honestly,  do  you  know  what  our  Landmann 
bill  was  last  month?" 

"I've  told  you  I  didn't  know,  Bert,"  Nancy 
might  answer  patiently. 

"  Well,  you  ought  to  know! " 

"I  know  this,"  Nancy  sometimes  said  gently, 
"that  you  are  not  yourself  to-day;  you've  been 
eating  too  much,  drinking  too  much,  and  going 
too  hard.  You  can't  do  it,  Bert,  you  aren't 
made  that  way.     .     .     ." 

Then  it  was  Bert's  turn  to  be  icily  silent, 
under  the  pleasant,  even  tones  of  his  wife's 
voice.  Sometimes  he  desperately  planned  to 
break  the  rule  of  hospitaUty,  to  frighten  Nancy 
by  letting  guests  and  neighbours  see  that  some- 
thing was  wrong  with  the  Bradleys.  But  he 
never  had  courage  enough,  it  always  seemed 


UNDERTOW  197 

simpler  and  wiser  to  keep  the  surface  smooth. 
Nancy,  on  her  part,  saw  that  there  was  nothing 
to  gain  by  a  break  of  any  sort.  Bert  was  not 
the  type  to  be  intimidated  by  sulks  and  si- 
lences, and  more  definite  steps  might  quickly 
carry  the  situation  out  of  her  hands.  The 
present  with  Bert  was  difficult,  but  a  future 
that  did  not  include  him  was  simply  unthink- 
able. No,  a  woman  who  had  four  young 
children  to  consider  had  no  redress;  she  could 
only  endure.  Nancy  liked  the  martyr  role,  and 
frequently  had  cause,  or  imagined  she  had 
cause,  for  assuming  it. 


Chapter  Thirty 

"  The  whole  trouble  is  that  Bert  loves  neither 
the  children  nor  myself  any  more!"  she  decided 
bitterly,  on  a  certain  August  afternoon,  when, 
with  three  other  young  wives  and  mothers, 
she  was  playing  bridge  at  the  club.  It  was 
a  Saturday,  and  Bert  was  on  the  tennis  courts, 
where  the  semi-finals  in  the  tournament  were 
being  played.  Nancy  had  watched  all  morn- 
ing, and  had  lunched  with  the  other  women;  the 
men  merely  snatched  lunch,  still  talking  of 
the  play.  Nancy  had  noticed  disapprovingly 
that  Bert  was  flushed  and  excited,  her  asides  to 
him  seemed  to  fall  upon  unhearing  ears.  He 
seemed  entirely  absorbed  in  what  Oliver  Rose 
and  Joe  Underbill  were  saying;  he  had  lost  his 
own  chance  for  the  cup,  but  was  in  high  spirits, 
and  was  to  umpire  the  afternoon  games. 

After  luncheon  Nancy  rather  discontentedly 

198 


UNDERTOW  199 

settled  down  to  bridge,  with  Elsie  Fielding, 
Ruth  Biggerstaff  and  a  young  Mrs.  Billings 
who  had  only  recently  come  back  to  her  home 
in  the  Gardens,  after  some  years  of  travel. 
They  were  all  pretty  and  gracious  women,  and 
just  such  a  group  as  the  Nancy  of  a  few  years 
ago  would  have  envied  heartily. 

But  to-day  she  felt  deeply  depressed,  she 
knew  not  why.  Perhaps  watching  the  tennis 
had  given  her  a  shght  headache;  perhaps  Bert's 
cavalier  treatment  of  her  latest  idea  of  econ- 
omizing, submitted  to  him  only  a  few  hours  ago, 
still  rankled  in  her  breast. 

"Bert,"  she  had  said  to  him  suddenly,  during 
a  breakfast-table  dissertation  in  which  he  had 
dwelt  upon  the  business  capability  of  some 
women,  and  the  utter  lack  of  it  in  others,  "Why 
not  rent  Holly  Court  and  go  somewhere  else 
for  a  year  or  two?" 

Even  as  she  spoke  she  had  been  smitten  with 
a  sudden  dread  of  all  this  must  entail  for  herself. 


200  UNDERTOW 

But  before  she  could  qualify  it,  Bert's  angry 
and  impatient  answer  had  come: 

"Don't  talk  nonsense!  Do  you  want  every- 
one to  think  that,  now  I'm  out  for  myself,  I  can't 
make  a  go  of  it?  What  would  Ingram  and 
Biggerstaff  think,  if  I  began  to  talk  money 
tightness?  I  didn't  leave  the  firm,  and  strike 
out  for  myself  to  give  in  this  soon! " 

Nancy  had  shrunk  back,  instantly  silenced. 
She  had  not  spoken  to  him  again  until  Oliver 
Rose  called,  to  remind  them  of  the  tennis, 
and  then,  hating  herself  while  she  did  it,  Nancy 
had  forced  herself  to  speak  to  Bert,  and  Bert 
had  somewhat  gruffly  replied.  Once  at  the  club, 
all  signs  of  the  storm  must  be  quickly  brushed 
aside,  but  the  lingering  clouds  lay  over  her 
heart  now,  and  she  felt  desolate  and  troubled. 
She  did  not  want  to  excuse  herself  and  go  home, 
she  did  not  want  to  go  out  and  watch  more  tennis, 
but  she  felt  vaguely  that  she  did  not  want  to  play 
bridge,  either.     The  other  women  bored  her. 


Chapter  Thirty-one 

Dummy  again.  She  seemed  to  be  dummy 
often,  this  afternoon.  They  were  playing  for 
quarter  cents,  but  even  that  low  stake,  Nancy 
thought  irritably,  ran  up  into  a  considerable 
sum,  when  one's  partner  bid  as  madly  as  young 
Mrs.  Billings  bid.  She  was  doubled,  and  re- 
doubled, and  she  lost  and  lost;  Nancy  saw 
Elsie's  white  hand,  with  its  gold  pencil,  daintily 
scoring  four  hundred — two  hundred — three  hun- 
dred. 

"I  thought  I  might  as  well  try  it,"  said  Mrs. 
Billings  bhthely,  "but  you  didn't  give  me  much 
help,  partner!" 

"I  didn't  bid,  you  know,"  Nancy  reminded 
her. 

"Oh,  I  know  you  didn't — it  was  entirely  my 
own  fault!    Well,  now,  let's  try  again.     .     .     ." 

201 


203  UNDERTOW 

Suddenly  it  seemed  to  Nancy  all  wrong — her 
sitting  here  in  the  tempered  summer  hght, 
playing  cards  throughout  the  afternoon.  In- 
herited from  some  conscientious  ancestor,  shame 
stirred  for  a  few  minutes  in  her  blood  and  she 
hated  herself,  and  the  club,  and  the  women  she 
played  with.  This  was  not  a  woman's  work  in 
the  world.  Her  children  scattered  about  their 
own  affairs,  her  household  in  the  hands  of 
strange  women,  her  husband  playing  another 
game,  with  other  idle  men,  and  she,  the  wife  and 
mother  and  manager,  sitting  idle,  with  bits  of 
pasteboard  in  her  hands.  She  was  not  even  at 
home,  she  was  in  a  public  club 

She  laughed  out,  as  the  primitive  wave  of 
feehng  brought  her  to  the  crude  analysis.  It 
was  funny — Hfe  was  funny.  For  a  few  strange 
minutes  she  felt  as  curiously  alien  to  the  Marl- 
borough Gardens  Yacht  Club  as  if  she  had  been 
dropped  from  another  world  on  to  its  porch. 
She  had  been  a  tired,  busy  woman,  a  few  years 


UNDERTOW  203 

ago;  by  what  witchcraft  had  she  been  brought 
to  this?  Mrs.  Billings  was  playing  four  hearts, 
doubled.  Nancy  was  too  deep  in  uneasy 
thought  to  care  much  what  befell  the  hand. 
She  began  to  plan  changes,  always  her  panacea 
in  a  dark  mood.  She  would  give  up  daytime 
playing,  like  Mary  Ingram.  And  she  would 
never  play  except  at  home,  or  in  some  other 
woman's  home.  Nancy  was  no  prude,  but  she 
was  suddenly  ashamed.  She  was  ashamed  to 
have  new-comers  at  the  club  pass  by,  and  see 
that  she  had  nothing  else  to  do,  this  afternoon, 
but  watch  a  card  game. 

Sam  Biggerstaff  came  to  the  door,  and 
nodded  to  his  wife.  Nancy  smiled  at  him; 
"  WiU  I  do?  "     No,  he  wanted  Ruth. 

So  his  wife  put  her  cards  in  Nancy's  hand,, 
and  went  out  to  talk  to  him.  Nancy  laughed, 
when  she  came  back. 

"You  score  two  tricks  doubled,  Ruth.  I 
think  that's  too  hard,  after  I  played  them! " 


204  UNDERTOW 

"Shameful!"  said  Mrs.  Biggerstaff,  in  her 
breathless  way,  slipping  into  her  seat.  Two  or 
three  more  hands  were  played,  then  Mrs. 
Fielding  said  suddenly : 

"Is  the  tennis  finished?  Who  won?  Aren't 
they  all  quiet — all  of  a  sudden?" 

The  other  two  women  glanced  up  idly,  but 
Mrs.  Biggerstaff  said  quietly: 

"  I  dealt.     No  trumps. ' ' 

" Right  off,  like  that! "  Nancy  laughed.  But 
Mrs.  Billings  said: 

"No — but  aren't  they  quiet?  And  they  were 
making  such  a  noise!  You  know  they  were 
clapping  and  laughing  so,  a  few  minutes  ago!" 

*^They  must  have  finished,"  Mrs.  Fielding 
said,  looking  at  her  hand  quizzically.  "You 
said  no  trump.     Partner,  let's  try  two  spades!" 

"Billy  was  going  to  come  in  to  tell  me,"  per- 
sisted Mrs.  BiUings,  "Just  wait  a  minute !" 

And  leaning  back  in  her  chair,  she  called  toward 
the  tea-room.     "Steward;  will  you  send  one  of 


UNDERTOW  205 

the  boys  down  to  ask  how  the  tennis  went? 
Tell  Mr.  Billings  I  want  to  know  how  it  went!" 

The  steward  came  deferentially  forward. 

"I  believe  they  didn't  finish  their  game,  Mrs. 
Billings.  The  fire— you  know.  I  think  all  the 
gentlemen  went  to  the  fire " 

"Wliere  is  there  a  fire!"  demanded  two  or 
three  voices.  Nancy's  surprised  eyes  went  from 
the  steward's  face  to  Mrs.  Biggerstaff 's,  and  some 
instinct  acted  long  before  her  fear  could  act,  and 
she  felt  her  soul  grow  sick  within  her. 

"Where  is  it?"  she  asked,  with  a  thickening 
tliroat,  and  then  suspiciously  and  fearfully. 
"Ruth,  where  was  it?''  And  even  while  she 
asked,  she  said  to  herself,  with  a  wild  huriy 
and  flutter  of  mind  and  heart,  "It's  our  house — 
that's  what  Sam  stopped  to  tell  Ruth — it's  Holly 
Court — but  I  don't  care — I  don't  care,  as  long  as 
Agnes  was  there,  to  get  the  children  out " 

It  was  all  instantaneous,  the  steward's  stam- 
mering explanation,  Ruth  BiggerstalT's  terrified 


2o6  UNDERTOW 

eyes,  the  little  whimper  of  fear  and  sympathy 
from  the  other  women.  Nancy  felt  that  there 
was  more — more 

"What'd  Sam  teU  you,  Ruth?  For  God's 
sake " 

"Now,  Nancy — now,  Nancy "  said  the 

Mrs.  Biggerstaff,  panting  like  a  frightened  child, 
"Sam  said  you  weren't  to  be  frightened — we 
don't  know  a  thing — listen,  dear,  we'll  tele- 
phone! That's  what  we'll  do — it  was  silly  of 
me,  but  I  thought  perhaps  we  could  keep  you 
from  being  scared— from  just  this " 

"But — but  what  did  you  hear,  Ruth?  Who 
sent  in  the  alarm?"  Nancy  asked,  with  dr>' 
lips.  She  was  at  the  club,  and  Holly  Court 
seemed  a  thousand  impassable  miles  away. 
To  get  home — to  get  home 

"Your  PauHne  telephoned!  Nancy,  wait! 
iVnd  she  distinctly  said — Sam  told  this  of  his 

own   accord "     Mrs.   Biggerstaff   had   her 

arms  tight  about  Nancy,  who  was  trembUng 


UNDERTOW  207 

very  much.  Nancy's  agonized  look  was  j&xed 
with  pathetic  childish  faith  upon  the  other 
woman's  eyes.  "Sam  told  me  that  she  dis- 
tinctly said  that  the  children  were  all  out  with 
Agnes!  She  asked  to  speak  to  Bert,  but  Bert 
was  watching  a  side-line,  so  Sam  came " 

Nancy's  gaze  flashed  to  the  clock  that  ticked 
placidly  over  the  wide  doorway.  Three  o'clock. 
And  three  o'clock  said,  as  clearly  as  words 
"Priscilla's  nap."  Agnes  had  tucked  her  in 
her  crib,  with  a  "cacker" — and  had  taken  the 
other  children  for  their  promised  walk  with  the 
new  puppy.  Pauline  had  rushed  out  of  the 
house  at  the  first  alarm 

And  Priscilla's  mother  was  here  at  the  club. 
Nancy  felt  that  she  was  going  to  get  dizzy, 
she  turned  an  ashen  face  to  IMrs.  Biggerstaff . 

"The  baby— Priscilla!"  she  said,  in  a  sharj:) 
whisper.  "Oh,  Ruth — did  they  remember  her! 
Oh,  God,  did  they  remember  her!  Oh,  baby 
—baby!" 


Chapter  Thirty-two 

The  last  words  were  no  more  than  a  breath 
of  utter  agony.  A  second  later  Nancy  turned, 
and  ran.  She  did  not  hear  the  protest  that 
followed  her,  nor  realize  that,  as  she  had  taken 
off  her  wide-brimmed  hat  for  the  card-game,  she 
was  bare-headed  under  the  burning  August  sun. 
She  choked  back  the  scream  that  seemed  her 
only  possible  utterance,  and  fought  the  deadly 
faintness  that  assailed  her.  Unhearing,  un- 
seeing, unthinking,  she  ran  across  the  porch, 
and  down  the  steps  to  the  drive. 

Here  she  paused,  checkmated.  For  every 
one  of  the  motor-sheds  was  empty,  and  not  a 
car  was  in  sight  on  the  lawns  or  driveway,  where 
usually  a  score  of  them  stood.  The  green, 
clipped  grass,  and  the  blossoming  shrubs,  bak- 
ing in  the  afternoon  heat,  were  silent  and  de- 


208 


UNDERTOW  209 

serted.  The  flame  of  geraniums,  and  the  dazzle 
of  the  empty  white  courts,  smote  her  eyes.  She 
heard  Mrs.  Fielding's  feet  flying  down  the  steps, 
and  turned  a  bewildered,  white  face  toward  her. 

"Elsie— there's  not  a  car!     Whatshall  I  do?" 

"Listen,  dear,"  said  the  new-comer,  breath- 
lessly, "  Ruth  is  telephoning  for  a  car " 

But  Nancy's  breath  caught  on  a  short,  dry  sob, 
and  she  shook  her  head. 

"All  the  way  to  the  ^dllage — it  can't  be  here 
for  half  an  hour!  Oh,  no,  I  can't  wait — I  can't 
wait " 

And  quite  without  knowing  what  she  did,  or 
hoped  to  do,  she  began  to  run.  The  crunched 
gravel  beneath  her  flying  feet  was  hot,  and  the 
mile  of  road  between  her  and  Holly  Court 
lay  partly  in  the  white  sunlight,  but  she  thought 
only  of  Priscilla — the  happy,  good,  inexacting 
little  baby,  who  had  been  put  in  her  crib — with 
her  "cacker" — and  left  there — and  left  there 

"My  baby!"  she  said  out  loud,  in  a  voice  of 


2IO  UNDERTOW 

agony.  "You  were  having  your  nap) — and 
mother  a  mile  away!" 

She  passed  the  big  stone  gateway  of  the  club, 
and  the  road — endless  it  looked — lay  before  her. 
Nancy  felt  as  helpless  as  one  bound  in  a  mahg- 
nant  dream.  She  could  make  no  progress,  her 
most  frantic  efforts  seemed  hardly  more  than 
standing  still.  A  sharp  pain  sprang  to  her  side, 
she  pressed  her  hand  over  it.  No  use ;  she  would 
only  kill  herself  that  way,  she  must  get  her  breath. 

Oh,  why  had  she  left  her — even  for  a  single 
second!  So  small,  so  gay,  so  helpless;  how 
could  any  mother  leave  her.  She  had  been  so 
merry,  in  her  high  chair  at  breakfast,  she  had 
toddled  off  so  dutifully  with  Agnes,  when  Nancy 
had  left  the  doleful  boys  and  the  whimpering 
Anne,  to  go  to  the  club.  The  little  gold  crown 
of  hair — the  small  buckskin  slippers— Nancy 
could  see  them  now.  They  were  the  real 
things,  and  it  was  only  a  terrible  dream  that  she 
was  running  here  through  the  merciless  heat 


UNDERTOW  211 

"Get  in  here,  Mrs.  Bradley!"  said  a  voice. 
One  of  the  Ingram  boys  had  brought  his  roadster 
to  a  stop  beside  her.  She  turned  upon  him  her 
tear-streaked  face. 

"Oh,  Bob,  tell  me— what's  happened?" 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said,  in  deep  concern. 
"  I  just  happened  to  go  into  the  club,  and  Mrs. 
BiggerstafI  sent  me  after  you!  I  don't  know — 
I  guess  it's  not  much  of  a  fire! " 

Nancy  did  not  answer.  She  shut  her  lips 
tight,  and  turned  her  eyes  toward  the  curve  in 
the  road.  Even  while  they  rushed  toward  it,  a 
great  mushroom  of  smoke  rose  and  flattened 
itself  against  the  deep  blue  summer  sky,  widen- 
ing and  sinking  over  the  tops  of  the  trees. 
Presently  they  could  hear  the  confused  shouts 
and  groans  that  always  surround  such  a  scene, 
and  the  hiss  of  water. 

A  turn  of  the  road;  Holly  Court  at  last. 
Her  escort  murmured  something,  but  Nancy 
did  not  answer.     She  had  only  one  sick  glance 


212  UNDERTOW 

for  the  scene  before  them;  the  fringe  of  watchers 
about  the  house,  the  village  fire-company  strug- 
ghng  and  shouting  over  the  pitifully  inadequate 
hose,  the  shining  singed  timbers  of  Holly 
Court.  A  great  funnel  of  heat  swept  up  above 
the  house,  and  the  green  under-leaves  on  the 
trees  crackled  and  crisped.  From  the  casement 
windows  smoke  trickled  or  puffed,  the  roof  was 
falling,  in  sections,  and  at  every  crash  and 
every  uprush  of  sparks  the  crowd  uttered  a  sym- 
pathetic gasp. 

The  motor,  curving  up  on  the  lawn,  passed 
the  various  other  vehicles  that  obstructed  the 
drive.  As  the  mistress  of  the  house  arrived, 
and  was  recognized,  there  was  a  little  pitiful 
stir  in  the  crowd.  Nancy  remembered  some  of 
this  long  afterward,  remembered  seeing  various 
household  goods — the  piano,  and  some  rugs, 
and  some  loose  books — carefully  ranged  at  one 
side,  remembered  a  glimpse  of  Pauline  crying, 
and  chattering  French,  and  Pierre  patting  his 


UNDERTOW  213 

wife's  shoulder.  She  saw  familiar  faces,  and 
unfamiliar  faces,  as  in  a  dream. 

But  under  her  dream  hammered  the  one  ag- 
onized question:  The  children — the  children — 
ah,  where  were  they?  Nancy  stumbled  from 
the  car,  asked  a  sharp  question.  The  villager 
who  heard  it  presented  her  a  blank  and  yet  not 
unkindly  face.  He  didn't  know,  ma'am,  he 
didn't  know  anything — he  had  just  come. 

She  knew  now  that  she  was  losing  her  reason, 
that  she  would  never  be  sane  again  if  anything 
— anything  had  happened 

The  crowd  parted  as  she  ran  forward.  And 
she  saw,  with  a  lightning  look  that  burned  the 
picture  on  her  brain  for  all  her  life,  the  boys 
blessed  little  figures — and  Anne  leaning  on  her 
father's  knee,  as  he  sat  on  an  overturned  book- 
case— and  against  Bert's  shoulder  the  little 
fat,  soft  brown  hand,  and  the  sunny  crown  of 
hair  that  were  Priscilla's 


Chapter  Thirty-three 

Blinded  with  an  exquisite  rush  of  tears,  some- 
how Nancy  reached  tliem,  and  fell  on  her  knees 
at  her  husband's  side,  and  caught  her  baby  to 
her  heart.  Three  hundred  persons  heard  the 
sobbing  cry  she  gave,  and  the  flames  flung  off 
stars  and  arrows  for  more  than  one  pair  of 
sympathetic  eyes.  But  she  neither  knew  nor 
cared.  She  knew  only  that  Bert's  arms  and 
the  boys'  arms  were  about  her,  and  that  Anne's 
thin  little  cheek  was  against  her  hair,  and  that  her 
hungry  lips  were  devouring  the  baby's  sweet, 
bewildered  face.  She  was  crying  as  if  there 
could  be  no  end  to  her  tears,  crymg  happily  and 
tr}dng  to  laugh  as  she  cried,  and  as  she  let  the 
waves  of  relief  and  joy  sweep  over  her  in  a 
reviving  flood. 

Bert  was  in  his  shirt  sleeves,  and  Priscilla 

214 


UNDERTOW  215 

still  had  on  only  the  short  embroidered  petti- 
coat that  she  wore  while  she  slept;  her  small 
feet  were  bare.  The  boys  were  grimed  with 
ashes  and  soot,  and  Anne  was  pale  and  speech- 
less with  fright.  But  they  were  all  together, 
father,  mother,  and  children,  and  that  was  all 
that  mattered  in  the  world — all  that  would  ever 
count,  for  Nancy,  again. 

"Don't  cry,  dearest!"  said  Bert,  the  tears 
streaming  down  his  own  blackened  face.  "  She's 
all  right,  dear!  We're  all  here,  safe  and  sound, 
we're  all  right!" 

But  Nancy  cried  on,  her  arms  strained  about 
them  all,  her  wet  face  against  her  husband's, 
and  his  arm  tight  across  her  shoulder. 

"Oh,  Bert— I  ran  so!  And  I  didn't  know — 
T  didn't  know  what  to  be  afraid  of — what  to 
think !     And  I  ran  so ! ' ' 

"You  poor  girl — you  shouldn't  have  done  it. 
But  dearest,  we're  all  right  now.  What  a 
scare  you  got — and  my  God,  what  a  scare  / 


2i6  UNDERTOW 

got!  But  I  got  to  her,  Nance — don't  look  so, 
dear.  I  was  in  plenty  of  time,  and  even  if  I 
hadn't  been,  Agnes  would  have  got  her  out.  She 
ran  all  the  way  from  Ingrams'  and  she  was  only  a 
few  minutes  after  me !    It's  all  right  now,  Nance." 

Nancy  dried  her  eyes,  swaying  back  on  her 
knees  to  face  him. 

"I  was  playing  cards — Bert,  if  anything  had 
happened  I  think  I  should  never  have  been 
sane  again " 

"I  was  on  the  court,  you  know,"  Bert  said. 
"Underbill's  kid  came  up,  on  his  bicycle.  He 
shouted  at  me,  and  I  ran,  and  jumped  into  the 
car,  Rose  following.  I  met  Agnes,  running  back 
to  the  house,  with  the  children — I  called  out 
'Where's  Priscilla?'  and  she  shouted  back — she 
shouted  back: '  Oh,  Mr.  Bradley— oh,  Mr.  Brad- 
ley  ' "  And  overcome  by  the  hideous  recol- 
lection, Bert  choked,  and  began  to  unbutton 
and  button  the  top  of  his  daughter's  little 
petticoat. 


UNDERTOW  217 

"  We  were  all  out  walkin',"  Ned  volunteered 
eagerly.  "And  Joe  Underhill  went  by  on  his 
bike.  And  he  yeUed  at  us,  'You'd  better  go 
home,  your  house  is  on  fire!'  and  Anne  began 
to  cry,  didn't  you,  Anne?  So  Agnes  said  a 
prayer,  right  out  loud,  didn't  she,  Junior? 
And  then  Dad  and  Mr.  Rose  went  by  us  in  the 
car  on  a  run— we  were  way  up  by  Ingrams' — 
and  then  Anne  and  Agnes  cried,  and  I  guess  we 
all  cried  some " 

"And  mother,  lissun,"  Junior  added.  "They 
didn't  get  the  baby  out  until  after  they  got  out 
the  piano!  They  got  the  piano  out  before  they 
got  Priscilla !  Because  Pauline  ran  over  to  Wal- 
laces', and  Hannah  was  walking  into  the  village 
for  the  mail,  and  when  Dad  got  here  and  yelled 
to  the  men,  they  said  they  hadn't  seen  any  baby 
— they  thought  the  house  was  empty " 

Nancy  turned  deathly  pale,  her  eyes  reaching 
Bert's,  her  lips  moving  without  a  sound. 

"  I  tried  the  front  stairway,  but  it  was — well,  I 


2i8  UNDERTOW 

couldn't,"  Bert  said.  "I  kept  thinking  that 
she  must  have  been  got  out,  by  somebody — 
but  I  knew  it  was  only  a  question  of  minutes — 
if  she  wasn't !    All  the  time  I  kept  saying '  You're 

a  fool — they  couldn't  have  forgotten  her !" 

and  Rose  kept  yelling  that  she  must  be  some- 
where, wdth  someone,  but  I  didn't — somehow  I 
didn't  dare  let  the  few  minutes  we  had  go  by 
without  making  sure!  So  I  ran  round  to  the 
side,  and  got  in  that  window,  and  unlocked  that 
door;  Hannah  must  have  locked  it.  I  ran  up- 
stairs— she  was  just  waking  up.  She  was  sit- 
ting up  in  her  crib,  rubbing  her  eyes,  and  a  little 
bit  scared  and  puzzled— smoke  was  in  there, 
then — but  she  held  out  her  little  arms  to  me — • 
I  was  in  time,  thank  God — I  thought  we'd  never 
get  here — ^but  we  were  in  time! " 

And  again  overcome  by  the  memory  of  that 
moment,  he  brushed  his  briiuming  eyes  against 
Priscilla's  bright  little  head,  and  liis  voice  failed. 

"But    Baby    couldn't    have   burned — Baby 


UNDERTOW  219 

couldn't  have  burned,  could  she,  Mother?" 
Anne  asked,  bursting  suddenly  into  hitter  cry- 
ing. Her  anxious  look  had  been  going  from 
one  face  to  another,  and  now  she  was  half 
frantic  with  fright. 

Nancy  sat  down  on  a  box,  and  lifted  her  elder 
daughter  into  her  lap. 

"No,  my  precious.  Daddy  was  in  time,"  she 
said,  in  her  old  firm  motherly  voice,  with  her 
comforting  arms  about  the  small  and  tearful 
girl.  "Daddy  and  Mother  were  both  rushing 
home  as  fast  as  they  could  come,  that's  what 
mothers  and  fathers  are  for.  And  now  we're  all 
safe  and  sound  together,  and  you  mustn't  cry 
any  more!" 

"But  our  house  is  burned  down!"  said  Junior 
dolefully.  "And  you're  crying.  Mother!"  he 
added  accusingly. 

Nancy  smiled  as  she  dried  her  eyes,  and 
dried  Anne's,  and  the  children  laughed  shakily 
as  she  exhibited  the  soot}-  handkerchief. 


220  UNDERTOW 

"Mother's  crying  for  joy  and  gratitude  and 
relief,  Junior!"  she  said.  "Why,"  and  her 
reassuring  voice  was  a  tonic  to  the  children, 
"Why,  what  do  Dad  and  I  care  about  an  old 
house!"  she  said  cheerfully.  "We'd  rather  have 
ten  houses  burn  down  than  have  one  of  you 
children  sick,  even  for  a  day ! " 

"  Don't  you  care?  "  exulted  Anne  between  two 
violent  kisses,  her  lips  close  to  her  mother's,  her 
thin  arms  tight  about  her  mother's  neck. 

"We  care  about  you,  and  the  boys,  and  the 
baby,  Anne,"  said  Bert,  "  but  that's  all.  Why,  I 
sort  of  think  I'm  glad  to  see  that  house  burn 
down!  It  used  to  worry  Mother  and  me  a  good 
deal,  and  now  it  won't  worry  us  any  more! 
How  about  that.  Mother?" 

And  his  reddened  eyes,  in  his  soot-  and  per- 
spiration-streaked face,  met  Nancy's  with  the 
old  smile  of  fun  and  courage,  and  her  eyes  met 
his.  Something  the  children  missed  passed 
between  them;  hours  of  conciliatory  talk  could 


UNDERTOW  221 

not  have  accomplished  what  that  look  did, 
years  of  tears  and  regret  would  not  so  thoroughly 
have  washed  away  the  accumulated  burden  of 
heartache  and  resentment  and  misunderstand- 
ing. 


Chapter  Thirty-four 

"Then  we're  going  to  be  gipsies,  aren't  we?" 
exulted  Junior. 

His  mother  had  straightened  her  hair,  and 
turned  the  box  upon  which  she  sat  for  the  better 
accommodation  of  Anne  and  herself.  Now  she 
was  placidly  watching  the  flames  devour  Holly 
Court;  the  pink  banners  that  blew  loose  in  the 
upsmrling  gray  fumes,  and  the  Httle  busy  suck- 
ing tongues  that  wrapped  themselves  about  an 
odd  cornice  or  window  frame  and  devoured  it 
industriously.  She  saw  her  bedroom  paper, 
the  green  paper  with  the  white  daisies — Bert 
had  thought  that  a  too-expensive  paper — 
scarred  with  great  gouts  of  smoke,  and  she  saw 
the  tangled  pipes  of  her  own  bathroom  curve 
and  drop  down  in  a  blackened  mass,  and  all  the 

222 


UNDERTOW  223 

time  her  arm  encircled  Anne,  and  the  child's 
heart  beat  less  and  less  fitfully,  and  Nancy's 
soul  was  steeped  in  peace. 

"You'll  get  some  insurance,  Bert?"  asked  one 
of  the  many  neighbours  who  were  hovering 
about  the  family  group,  waiting  for  a  suitable 
moment  in  which  to  offer  sympathy.  The  first 
excitement  of  the  reunion  over,  they  gathered 
nearer;  Fielding  and  Oliver  Rose  coatless  and 
perspiring  from  their  struggles  with  the  furni- 
ture, a  dozen  others  equally  concerned  and 
friendly. 

"Fourteen  thousand,"  grinned  Bert,  "and  I 
carry  a  thirteen-thousand  loan  on  her!" 

"Gosh,  that  is  tough  luck.  Brad!  She's  a 
dead  loss  then,  for  she's  gone  like  paper,  and 
there  won't  be  ten  dollars'  worth  of  salvage. 
You  had  some  furniture  insurance?  " 

"Not  a  cent!"  Bert  said  cheerfully.  He 
glanced  about  at  his  excited  sons;  his  wife, 
bareheaded,  and  still  pale,  if  smiling;  his  daugh- 


224  UNDERTOW 

ter  just  over  her  tears ;  and  his  baby,  plump  and 
happy  in  her  little  white  petticoat.  "  I  guess  we 
got  most  everything  out  of  the  house  that  I 
care  much  about!"  smiled  Bert. 


Chapter  Thirty-five 

For  two  hours  more  the  Bradleys  sat  as  they 
were,  and  watched  the  swift  ruin  of  their  home. 
Nancy's  hot  face  cooled  by  degrees,  and  she 
showed  an  occasional  faint  interest  in  the  de- 
tails of  the  calamity;  this  chair  was  saved,  that 
was  good;  this  clock  was  in  ruins,  no  matter. 
She  did  not  loosen  her  hold  on  Anne,  and  the 
httle  girl  sat  contentedly  in  her  mother's  lap, 
but  the  boys  foraged,  and  shouted  as  they 
dashed  to  and  fro.  Over  and  over  again  she 
reassured  them;  it  was  too  bad,  of  course,  but 
Mother  and  Dad  did  not  mind  very  much. 
She  thanked  the  neighbours  who  brought  chairs 
and  pillows  and  odd  plates,  and  piled  them 
near  her. 

She  and  Bert  were  wrapped  in  a  sort  of  stu- 
por,   after    the  events  of  the  hot  afternoon. 

225 


226  UNDERTOW 

Bert  seemed  to  forget  that  a  meal  and  a  sleeping 
place  must  be  provided  for  his  tribe,  and  that 
his  face  was  shockingly  dirty,  and  he  wore  no 
coat.  He  found  it  delicious  to  have  the  placid 
Priscilla  finish  her  interrupted  nap  in  his  arms, 
and  enjoyed  his  sons'  comments  as  they  came 
and  went.  Neither  husband  nor  wife  spoke 
much  of  the  fire,  but  a  rather  gay  conversation 
was  carried  on  and  there  was  much  philosophical 
laughter  of  the  sort  that  such  an  occasion  al- 
ways breeds. 

"I  might  know  that  you  would  save  that 
statue,  Jack,"  said  Bert  to  one  of  the  young 
Underbills.  "We've  been  trying  to  break  that 
for  eleven  years!" 

"If  that's  the  case,"  the  youth  said  sol- 
emnly, and  Nancy's  old  happy  laugh  rang  out 
as  he  flung  the  plaster  Psyche  in  a  smother  of 
white  fragments  against  the  chimney. 

"I  suppose  it  would  be  only  decent  for  me  to 
get  started  at  something,"   she  said,   after  a 


UNDERTOW  227 

while.  "It  seems  senseless  to  sit  here  and 
merely  watch " 

"For  pity's  sake  sit  still  if  you  can,"  old  Mrs. 
Underhill  said  affectionately.  "The  fire  com- 
pany's going,  and  people  are  all  leaving  now, 
anyway.  And  we've  got  to  go,  too,  but  Joe 
will  be  over  again  later — to  bring  you  back  with 
us.  Just  tr}^  to  keep  calm,  Nancy,  and  don't 
worry!" 

Worry?  Nancy  knew  that  she  had  not  been 
so  free  from  actual  worry  for  a  long,  long  time. 
She  remembered  a  dinner  engagement  with  a 
pleasant  reflection  that  it  could  not  be  kept. 
To-morrow,  too,  with  its  engagement  to  play 
cards  and  dine  and  dance,  was  now  freed. 
And  Monday — when  she  had  promised  to  go  to 
town  and  look  for  hats  with  Dorothy,  and  Tues- 
day, when  those  women  were  coming  for  lunch — 
it  was  all  miraculously  cancelled.  A  mere 
chance  had  loosed  the  bonds  that  neither  her 
own  desperate  resolution  nor  Bert's  could  break. 


228  UNDERTOW 

She  was  Nancy  Bradley  again,  a  wife  and 
mother  and  housekeeper  first,  and  everything 
else  afterward. 

What  would  they  do  now — where  would  they 
go?  She  did  not  care.  She  had  been  afraid  of  a 
hundred  contingencies  only  this  morning,  fretted 
with  tiny  necessities,  annoyed  by  inessential 
details.  Now  a  real  event  had  come  along,  and 
she  could  breathe  again. 

"I  wonder  what  I've  been  afraid  of,  all  this 
time?"  mused  Nancy.  And  she  smiled  over  a 
sudden,  mutinous  thought.  How  many  of  the 
women  she  knew  would  be  glad  to  have  their 
houses  burned  down  between  luncheon  and 
dinner  on  a  summer  Saturday?  She  turned  to 
Bert.  "Pierre  and  Pauline  may  now  consider 
themselves  as  automatically  dismissed,"  she 
said. 

"They  have  already  come  to  that  conclusion," 
Bert  said,  with  some  relish.  "I  am  to  figure 
out  what  I  owe  them,  and  mail  them  a  check. 


UNDERTOW  229 

Some  of  their  things  they  got  out — most  of 
them,  I  guess.  I  saw  someone  putting  their 
trunk  on  a  wagon,  awhile  back,  and  I  imagine 
that  we  have  parted  forever." 

"Hannah  transfers  herself  this  night  to  the 
Fielding  menage,"  Nancy  added  after  a  while. 
''Which  reduces  our  staff  to  Agnes.  I  never 
want  to  part  with  Agnes.  You  can't  buy  tears 
and  loyalty  like  that;  they're  a  gift  from  God. 
Where  do  we  spend  the  night,  by  the  way?" 

Bert  gazed  at  her  calmly. 

"I  have  not  the  faintest  idea,  my  dear  wo- 
man!" Then  they  laughed  in  the  old  fashion, 
together. 

"But  do  look  at  the  sunlight  coming  down 
through  the  trees,  and  the  water  beyond  there," 
Nancy  presently  said.  "Isn't  it  a  lovely  place 
— Holly  Court?  Really  this  is  a  wonderful 
garden." 

"That's  what  I  was  thinking,"  Bert  agreed. 
It  had  been  many  months,  perhaps  years,  since 


230  UNDERTOW 

the  Bradleys  had  commented  upon  the  sun- 
light, as  it  fell  all  summer  long  through  the 
boughs  of  their  own  trees. 

Gradually  the  crowd  melted  away,  and  the 
acrid  odour  of  wet  wood  mingled  with  the  smell 
of  burning.  And  gradually  that  second  odour 
gave  way  to  the  persuasive  sweetness  of  the 
summer  evening,  the  sharp,  deHcate  fragrance 
that  is  loosed  when  the  first  dew  falls,  and  the 
perfumes  of  reviving  flowers.  Holly  Court 
still  smoked  sulkily,  and  here  and  there  in  its 
black  ruins  some  special  object  flamed  brightly: 
Nancy's  linen  chest  and  the  pineapple  bed 
went  on  burning  when  the  other  things  were 
done.  It  was  nearly  sunset  when  the  Bradleys 
walked  slowly  about  the  wreck,  and  laughed  or 
bemoaned  themselves  as  they  recognized  what 
was  gone,  or  what  was  left. 


Chapter  Thirty-six 

That  night  they  slept  in  the  garage.  With  a 
flash  of  her  old  independence,  Nancy  so  de- 
cided it.  She  was  firm  in  declining  the  hospita- 
ble oJBfers  that  would  have  scattered  the  Bradleys 
among  the  neighbouring  homes  for  the  night. 

"No,  no — we're  all  together,"  Nancy  said, 
smiling.  "I  don't  v/ant  to  separate  again,  for 
a  while."  She  calmly  estimated  the  salvage — 
beds  and  bedding,  some  chairs,  rugs,  and  small 
tables,  tumbled  heaps  of  the  children's  clothes, 
and  odd  lots  of  china  and  glass. 

Priscilla  was  presently  set  to  amuse  herself, 
on  a  rug  on  the  lawn,  and  the  enraptured  chil- 
dren and  Agnes  and  the  new  puppy  bustled 
joyfully  about  among  the  heterogeneous  posses- 
sions of  the  evicted  family,  under  Nancy's  di- 
rection.    There  was  much  hilarity,  as  the  new 

231 


232  UNDERTOW 

settling  began,  the  boys  were  miracles  of  obedi- 
ence and  intelligence,  and  Anne  laughed  some 
colour  into  her  face  for  the  first  time  in  weeks. 
Nancy  was  in  her  element,  there  was  much  to 
do,  and  she'was_^the  only  person  who  knew  how  it 
should  be  done.  Even  Bert  stood  amazed  at  her 
efficiency,  and  accepted  her  orders  admiringly. 

In  the  exquisite  summer  twilight  she  sent 
him  to  the  Biggerstaffs'.  Nobody  had  yet 
found  sleeping  wear  for  the  man  of  the  family, 
that  was  message  one.  And  message  two  was 
the  grateful  acceptance  of  the  fresh  milk  that  had 
been  offered.  Everybody  he  met  wanted  to 
add  something  to  these  modest  demands.  Bert 
had  not  felt  himself  so  surrounded  with  affec- 
tion and  sympathy  for  many  years.  At  seven 
o'clock  he  was  back  at  the  garage,  heavily 
laden,  but  cheerful. 

Nancy  leaned  out  of  the  upper  window,  where 
geraniums  in  boxes  bloomed  as  they  had 
bloomed  when  first  the  Bradleys  came  to  Holly 


UNDERTOW  233 

Court  and  called  out  joyfully,  "See  how  nice 
we  are!"  The  children,  laughing  and  stumb- 
ling over  each  other,  were  carrying  miscellane- 
ous loads  of  clothing  and  bedding  upstairs. 
Bert  picked  up  two  pillows  and  an  odd  bureau 
drawer  full  of  garments,  and  followed  them. 
His  wife,  busy  and  smiling,  greeted  him. 

"That's  lovely,  dear — and  that  just  about 
finishes  us,  up  here.  You  see  we've  cleared  out 
these  two  big  rooms,  and  the  Ingrams'  man 
came  just  in  time  to  set  up  the  beds.  This  is 
our  room,  and  Agnes  and  the  girls  will  have 
the  other.  The  boys  will  have  to  sleep  on  the 
double  couch  .downstairs,  to-morrow  they  can 
have  a  tent  on  the  lawn  right  back  of  us.  Bring 
that  drawer  here,  it  goes  in  this  chest.  I  thought 
it  was  missing,  but  we'll  straighten  everything 
out  to-morrow,  and  see  where  we  stand.  The 
piano's  out  there  on  the  lawn,  and  I  wish  you'd 
cover  it  with  something,  unless  you  get  some 
one  after  supper  to  help  you  move  it  in.     It 


234  UNDERTOW 

goes  in  the  corner  where  the  boys'  sleds  were, 
downstairs.     Supper's  ready,  Bert,  if  you  are!" 

"Perhaps  you'd  Hke  me  to  dress?"  Bert 
said,  deeply  amused.  Anne  and  her  brothers 
laughed  uproariously,  as  they  all  went  down 
the  narrow  stairs. 

"No,  but  do  come  down  and  see  how  nice  it 
is!"  his  wife  said  eagerly.  Hanging  on  his 
arm,  she  showed  him  the  comfort  downstairs. 
The  big  room  that  had  been  large  enough  to 
house  two  cars  had  been  swept,  and  the  rugs 
laid  over  the  concrete  floor.  Through  a  west- 
erly window  crossed  by  rose-vines  the  last 
light  of  the  long  day  fell  softly  upon  a  small 
table  set  for  supper.  Priscilla  was  already  in 
her  high  chair  demanding  food.  At  the  back 
of  the  room,  on  the  long  table  once  used  for 
tools  and  tubes,  Agnes  was  busy  with  a  coal- 
oil  stove  and  Nancy's  copper  blazer.  A  heart- 
ening aroma  of  fresh  coffee  was  mingling  with 
other  good  odours  from  that  region. 


Chapter  Thirty-seven 

Contentedly,  the  Bradleys  dined.  Bert  served 
scrambled  eggs  and  canned  macaroni  to  the  rav- 
enous cliildren — a  meal  that  was  supplemented 
by  a  cold  roast  fowl  from  the  Rose's,  a  sheet  of 
rolls  brought  at  the  last  moment  by  the  Field- 
ings'  man,  sweet  butter  and  peach  ice-cream 
from  the  Seward  Smiths,  and  a  tray  of  various 
delicacies  from  the  concerned  and  sympathetic 
Ingrams.  Every  one  was  hungry  and  excited, 
and  more  than  once  the  boys  made  their  father 
shout  with  laughter.  They  were  amusing  kids, 
his  indulgent  look  said  to  his  w^ife. 

At  the  conclusion  of  the  meal  little  Anne 
went  around  the  table,  and  got  into  her  father's 
lap. 

"  'Member  I  used  to  do  this  when  I  was  just 
a  little  girl?  "  Anne  asked,  happily.     Nancy  and 

235 


236  UNDERTOW 

Bert  looked  for  a  second  at  each  other  over  the 
relaxed  little  head.  It  was  almost  dark  now, 
Priscilla  was  silent  in  her  mother's  arms,  even 
the  boys  were  quiet.  Bert  smoked,  and  Nancy 
spoke  now  and  then  to  the  sleepy  baby. 

It  was  with  an  effort  that  she  roused  herself, 
to  lead  the  little  quartette  upstairs.  And  even 
as  she  did  so  she  remembered  this  old  sensation, 
the  old  reluctance  to  leave  after-dinner  quiet 
and  relaxation  for  the  riot  of  the  nursery*. 
Smiling,  she  carried  the  baby  upstairs,  and  set- 
tled the  chattering  children  in  all  the  novelty 
of  the  bare  wide  rooms. 

Bert  could  hear  the  diminishing  trills  of  talk 
and  laughter,  the  repeated  good-nights.  The 
oblong  of  light  from  the  upper  window  faded 
suddenly  from  the  lawn.  Somewhere  from  the 
big  closet  at  the  back,  lately  filled  with  slip- 
covers and  new  tires,  Agnes  hummed  over  the 
subdued  click  and  tinkle  of  dishes  and  silver, 
and  he  could  hear  Nancy's  feet  coming  care- 


UNDERTOW  237 

fully  down  the  steep,  unfamiliar  stairway. 
Presently  she  joined  him  in  the  soft  early 
darkness  of  the  doorway,  silently  took  the  wide 
arm  of  his  porch-chair,  and  leaned  against  his 
shoulder.     Bert  put  his  arm  about  her. 

It  was  a  heavenly  summer  evening,  lumin- 
ous even  before  the  moon-rising.  The  last 
drift  of  smoke  was  gone,  and  the  garden  drenched 
with  scent.  Under  the  first  stars  the  shrubs 
and  trees  stood  in  panoramic  perspective;  the 
lawns  looked  wide  and  smooth.  Down  the 
street,  under  a  dark  arch  of  elms,  the  lights 
of  other  houses  showed  yellow  and  warm;  now 
and  then  a  motor-car  swept  by,  sending  a  circle 
of  white  light  for  a  few  moments  against  the 
gloom. 

"Dead,  dear?"  Bert  asked,  after  awhile. 
Nancy  sighed  contentedly  before  she  an- 
swered: 

"Tired,  of  course — a  little! " 

"Well,"    summarized    Bert,    after    another 


238  UNDERTOW 

pause,  "we  have  now  reduced  our  problem 
somewhat.  A  man,  his  wife,  his  children. 
There  we  are!" 

"A  roof  above  his  head,  a  maid-servant, 
and  all  the  Sunday  meals  in  the  house!"  Nancy 
added  optimistically. 

"A  barn  roof,"  amended  Bert. 

"Bams  have  sheltered  babies  before  this," 
Nancy  reflected  whimsically.  Again  she  sighed. 
"  I  suppose  babies  do  burn  to  death,  sometimes, 
Bert?  One  sees  it  in  the  paper;  just  a  line  or 
two.     I  remember " 

"Don't  let  your  mind  dwell  on  that  side  of 
it,  Nance.  For  that  matter  a  brick  might  fall 
off  the  roof  on  our  heads  now." 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  Priscilla  was  my  re- 
sponsibility, and  I  was  a  mile  away." 

"You'll  be  a  mile  away  from  her  many  a 
time  and  oft,"  Bert  reminded  her  whole- 
somely. 

"When  I  have  to  be,"  she  conceded,  slowly. 


UNDERTOW  239 

"But  to-day "     Her  voice  sank,  and  Bert, 

glancing  sidewise  at  her,   saw   that  her  face 
was  very  thoughtful.     "Bert,"  she  said,  "we 
have  a  good  deal  to  be  thankful  for." 
"Everything  in  the  world!" 


Chapter  Thirty-eight 

Another  silence.     Then  Nancy  said  briskly: 

"Well!  Listen  to  what  I've  planned,  Bert, 
and  tell  me  what  you  think.  Item  one:  this  is 
vacation,  but  when  it's  over  I  want  to  start 
Anne  and  the  boys  in  at  the  village  school. 
They  can  cut  right  across  the  field  at  the  back 
here,  it's  just  a  good  walk  for  them.  They're 
frantic  to  go,  instead  of  to  Fraulein,  and  I'm 
perfectly  satisfied  to  have  them!" 

"Sure  you  are?"  the  man  asked,  a  Httle 
touched,  for  this  had  been  a  long-disputed  point. 

"Oh,  quite!  Just  as  you  and  I  did.  And 
then,  item  two:  Agnes  is  a  good  plain  cook,  and 
Priscilla  is  an  angel.  I'll  walk  to  market  every 
day,  and  send  out  the  laundry,  and  keep  Pris- 
cilla wich  me.     So  that  makes  Agnes  our  entire 

domestic    staff — she's    enthusiastic,    so    don't 

240 


UNDERTOW  241 

begin  to  curl  your  lips  over  it.  Then  we'll 
have  to  have  a  floor  in  here,  and  cut  a  window 
in  the  closet  back  there,  and  put  in  a  Uttle  gas 
stove,  and  before  winter  we'll  put  on  a  little 
addition — a  kitchen  in  back,  with  a  room  for 
the  boys  above.  And  we'll  shut  the  big  double 
doors,  and  I'll  have  another  window  box  right 
across  their  windows,  and  curtain  the  whole 
place  in  plain  net.  The  boys  can  sleep  in  the 
tent  for  the  time  being.  There's  a  furnace, 
but  we'll  have  to  make  some  provision  for 
coal " 

"  But,  my  good  woman,  you  don't  propose  to 
make  this  arrangement  permanent,  I  suppose?" 
Bert  said,  bewilderedly.  "Why,  I  meant  to 
spend  to-morrow  looking  about " 

"Why  shouldn't  it  be  permanent?"  Nancy 
demanded.  "We  can  kitch  and  dine  and  sit 
in  the  big  room,  we'll  have  all  the  room  we  want, 
upstairs.  It's  the  only  place  in  the  world 
where  we  don't  have  to  pay  rent.     It's  quiet, 


242  UNDERTOW 

it's  off  the  main  road,  nobody  will  see  what  we 
are  doing  here,  and  nobody '11  care!" 

"  They'll  see  us  fast  enough,"  Bert  said  doubt- 
fully. "I  never  heard  of  any  one  doing  it — 
I  don't  know  what  people  would  say ! " 

"Bert,"  Nancy  assured  him  seriously,  "I 
don't  care  what  they  say.  I've  been  thinking 
it  all  over,  and  I  believe  I  can  risk  the  opinion 
of  Marlborough  Gardens!  Some  of  them  will 
drop  us,  and  you  and  I  know  who  they  are. 
How  much  do  we  care?  And  the  others  will 
realize  that  we  are  hard  hit  financially,  and  try- 
ing to  catch  up.  Mary  Ingram  came  over 
while  you  were  away,  perfectly  aghast.  She 
had  just  heard  of  it.  I  told  her  what  we  were 
tr3dng  to  do,  and  she  said — well,  she  said  just 
the  one  thing  that  really  could  have  helped  me. 
She  said : '  You'll  have  great  fun — we  hved  in  our 
garage  while  the  house  was  being  built,  and 
it  was  quite  the  happiest  summer  we  ever  had 
down  here!'"    Nancy  had  squared  herself  on 


UNDERTOW  243 

the  arm  of  his  chair  so  that  Bert  could  see  her 
bright  eyes  in  the  dark.  "It  was  just  hke 
Mary,  to  put  it  that  way,"  she  went  on.  "For 
of  course  even  Holly  Court  was  never  as 
large  as  the  Ingrams'  garage,  and  all  those  brick 
arches  and  things  join  it  to  the  house  anyway, 
but  it  made  me  think  how  much  wiser  it  is  to 
do  things  your  own  way,  instead  of  some  other 
people's  way!  And,  Bert,  we're  going  to  have 
such  fun!  We'll  keep  the  car,  and  you  can  run 
it  on  Sundays,  and  perhaps  I  will  a  little,  dur- 
ing the  week,  and  at  night  or  when  it  rains  we 
can  cover  it  with  a  tarpauHn,  and  we'll  have 
picnics  with  the  children  all  summer  long! 
And  I'll  make  you  'chicken  Nancy'  again,  and 
popovers,  on  Sunday  mornings!  I  love  to 
cook.  I  love  to  tell  stories  to  children.  I  love 
to  pack  mashy  suppers  and  get  all  dirty  and 
hot  dragging  them  to  the  beach,  and  I  love  to 
stuff  my  own  Thanksgiving  turkey,  in  my  own 
way!    We  haven't  had  a  real  Thanksgiving 


244  UNDERTOW 

turkey  for  four  or  five  years!  We'll  have  no 
rent — Agnes  gets  thirty — light  wiU  be  almost 
nothing,  and  coal  about  a  tenth  of  what  it  was — 
Bert,  we'll  spend  about  two  hundred  a  month, 
all  told!" 

"I  don't  say  yet  that  you  ought  to  try  it," 
Bert  said  suddenly,  in  his  old,  excited,  earnest 
way.  "  But  of  course  that  would — well,  it  would 
just  about  make  me.  I  could  plunge  into  the 
other  thing,  I  wouldn't  have  tliis  place  on  my 
mind!" 

"There  are  some  bills,  you  know,  Bert." 
"The  extra  thousand  will  take  care  of  those!" 
"  So  that  we  start  in  with  a  clean  slate.     Oh, 
Bert!"   Nancy's  voice  was  as  exultant  as   a 
child's.     "Bert — my  fur  coat,  and  your  coat! 
I've  just  remembered  they're  in  storage!    Isn't 
that  luck!" 
Bert  laughed  at  her  face. 
"  Funny  how  your  viewpoint  on  luck  changes. 
This  morning  you  had  the  coat  and  the  Lord 


UNDERTOW  245 

knows  how  much  silver  and  glass  and  lace 
besides " 

"Oh,  I  know.  But  that's  the  kind  of  a  wo- 
man I  am,  Bert.  I  don't  like  things  to  come 
to  me  so  fast  that  I  can't  taste  them.  I  don't 
like  having  four  servants,  I  get  more  satisfac- 
tion out  of  one.  And  if  I  am  hospitable,  I'd 
rather  give  meals  and  rooms  to  persons  who 
really  need  them,  than  to  others  who  have  left 
better  meals  and  better  rooms  to  come  and 
share  mine! 

"Why,  Bert  dear,"  Nancy's  cheek  was 
against  his  now,  "  the  thought  of  waking  up  in 
the  morning  and  realizing  that  nobody  expects 
anything  of  me  makes  me  feel  young  again! 
It  makes  me  feel  as  if  I  was  breathing  fresh  air 
deep  down  into  my  lungs.  We  haven't  room 
for  servants,  we  have  no  guest  room,  I  simply 
can't  do  anything  but  amuse  Priscilla  and  make 
desserts.  We'll  have  the  children  at  the  dinner 
table  every  night,  and  nights  that  Agnes  is  off. 


246  UNDERTOW 

I'll  have  a  dotted  black  and  white  percale  apron 
for  you " 

This  was  old  history,  there  had  been  a  dotted 
percale  apron  years  ago,  and  Nancy  was  joking, 
but  Bert  did  not  laugh.  He  made  a  gruff  sound, 
and  tightened  his  arm. 

"Bert,"  said  his  wife,  seriously,  "Bert, 
when  I  kissed  you  this  afternoon,  dirty  and  hot 
and  sooty  as  you  were,  I  knew  that  I'd  been 
missing  something  for  a  long  time! " 

Again  Bert  made  a  gruff  sound,  and  this 
time  he  kissed  his  wife,  but  he  did  not  speak  for 
a  moment.  When  he  did,  it  was  with  a  long, 
deep  breath. 

"Lord — Lord — Lord!"  said  he. 

"  Why  do  you  say  that?  "  asked  Nancy. 

"Oh,  I  was  just  thinking!"  Bert  stretched  in 
his  chair,  to  the  infinite  peril  of  his  equihbrium 
and  hers.  "  I  was  just  thinking  what  a  wonder- 
ful thing  it  is  to  be  married,  and  to  climb  and 
fall,  and  succeed  and  fail,  and  all  the  rest  of 


UNDERTOW  247 

it!"  he  said  contentedly.  "I'll  bet  you  there 
are  lots  of  rich  men  who  would  like  to  try  it 
again!  I  was  just  thinking  what  corking  times 
we're  going  to  have  this  year,  what  it's  going  to 
be  like  to  have  my  little  commutation  punched 
like  the  rest  of  'em,  and  come  home  in  the 
dark,  winter  nights,  to  just  my  own  wife  and 
my  own  kids!  I  like  company  now  and  then 
— the  Biggerstaffs  and  the  Ingrams — but  I 
like  you  all  the  year  round.  We'll — we'll 
read  Dickens  tliis  winter!" 

Nancy  gave  a  laugh  that  was  half  a  sob. 

"Bert — we  were  always  going  to  read  Dick- 
ens!   Do  you  remember?  " 

"Do  I  remember!"  He  smoked  for  a  while 
in  silence.  Then  he  chuckled.  "Do  you  re- 
member the  Sunday  breakfasts  in  the  East 
Eleventh  Street  flat?  With  real  cream  and 
corn  bread?  Do  you  remember  wheeHng  Junior 
through  the  park?  " 

Nancy  cleared  her  throat. 


248  UNDERTOW 

"I  remember  it  all!" 

There  was  another  silence.  Then  Bert 
straightened  suddenly,  and  asked  with  con- 
cern: 

"Nancy — what  is  it?  You're  all  tired  out, 
you  poor  little  girl.  Don't,  dear — don't  cr>% 
Nancy!" 

Nancy,  groping  for  his  handkerchief,  battling 
with  tears,  feeling  his  kiss  on  her  wet  cheek, 
laughed  shakily  in  the  dark. 

"I— I  can't  help  it,  Bert!"  said  she.  "I'm 
— I'm  so  happy!" 


THE   END 


THE   COUNTRY  LIFE  PRESS 
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